Between Hay and Grass
by RedZipBoots
Summary: Heyes and Curry discover that finding your way in life can be harder than you think.
1. Chapter 1

Cornflower blue eyes stared in wonder at the small display set out in the window of Todd's Mercantile Store. The boy stood so close that his unruly, once-blond curls touched the pane and his breath made a small misty mark on the glass.

Large jars stood in neat rows filled with candy in all the colours of the rainbow from yellow lemon drops and green peppermint sticks to strawberry lollipops and bars of chocolate. The boy's brows knitted together as he tried to imagine how they might taste. Sweet was the only word he could come up with. He was sure that he must have tried some once, but he was struggling to remember when.

Right on cue his empty stomach gave a loud growl.

If there was one thing that he hated most in this life it was feeling hungry.

He had spent the last five years at the Valparaiso School for Waywards where, every day, he had felt almost as hungry as he did right now. Come to think of it he couldn't even recall the last time he had eaten anything resembling a proper meal and what it felt like to have a full stomach was forgotten, long ago.

Things had got worse lately — much worse. A piece of abandoned bread plucked from a cafe table together with an apple snatched on the run from a display outside a general store had been the last things he had eaten.

Vague recollections of his mama's home cooking drifted into his mind but he pushed the bruised and battered memories away, back to where they couldn't cause him any pain.

Thirteen year old Jed and his fifteen year old cousin Hannibal had been fending for themselves for about three months now. The decision to run away had been the easy part — it was getting out of the building itself that had posed a problem. The School for Waywards felt a lot more like a prison than a school and only loosely resembled anything the word 'Home' could conjure up.

Han had worked on their escape plan for months although the actual lock-picking skills required had been honed over a much longer period of time. He had started by stealing a padlock from the caretaker's toolbox. Hours were then spent playing around with it, sometimes way into the early hours while the other boys were tucked up in bed asleep, trying various objects such as pieces of wire, nails and even the prong of a belt buckle to open it. Once he had worked out how to do it no padlock was safe as he couldn't resist the urge to open each and every one he came across.

Next, he graduated to the lock on the door to the caretaker's store room. This was a high risk undertaking; he would have received a severe beating if he had been caught anywhere near it, but he took advantage of every opportunity, however fleeting, and persevered until it would open for him in less than a minute. Different types of locks were then added to his repertoire until he was confident that he could pick almost any one.

Jed was in awe of his older cousin's abilities. Han could read anything — even long words — and when they were not employed making boots and shoes or sewing pillow ticks, he always seemed to have his nose in a book. Despite only a few hours schooling each week he could recite all his times tables as well as do sums in his head; and now he was able to open locks without appearing to be even trying. Jed hoped that by the time he was fifteen he would be that smart too but, right now, he was happy to follow Han's lead.

It was one of Han's plans that Jed was supposed to be following right at this minute but the colourful shop window had proved too much of a temptation. He had totally forgotten that he was supposed to be positioned at the end of the alley between the mercantile and the gunsmiths, keeping a look out for his cousin and making sure that there was nobody on the main street who could hinder their escape.

A loud string of expletives brought his attention back to the present and, suddenly remembering where he ought to be and what he should be doing, Jed darted off the boardwalk and onto the street to look apprehensively down the alley.

A tall, dark-haired boy ran hell bent for leather from the back of the store and around the corner, clutching a couple of bulging gunny sacks to his chest. The storekeeper, Mister Todd, his round chubby face red with anger and exertion followed in close pursuit.

Glancing over his shoulder at the irate man the thief increased his pace. "Run, Jed! Run!" yelled Han noting the boy's indecision.

Without looking Jed turned and literally ran straight into the strong arm of the law.

ooooo-OOO-ooooo

The small town of Serenity easily lived up to its name — nothing much ever happened here. The railroad barely came within a hundred miles of the town and a stage service not much closer. Mail deliveries were erratic and anyone wanting to send a telegraph had to make a good day's ride south to Woodsdale. As far as the law was concerned, the occasional theft of a pie left cooling on a windowsill or a drunk needing to be pointed in the direction of home on a Saturday night was about as lawless as it got.

Danny Whitman, the town's young, newly-appointed deputy sheriff strolled along the boardwalk whistling happily to himself as he made his afternoon rounds. The unusual sound of Mister Todd's raised voice brought him out of his reverie and, despite his apparent complacency, he reacted quickly and ran toward the commotion.

Danny may not have been in the job more than a few months but he had a sharp mind and instantly came to the conclusion that the unfamiliar blond boy was involved with whatever was going on. Luckily, he arrived at the alley just in time to thrust out an arm and seize Jed by a good handful of his shirt collar as he turned to run.

"Oh, no you don't!" Danny held the struggling boy with one hand and drew his six gun with the other as someone ran past him from out of the alley.

"Stop right there or I'll shoot ya," he declared, taking note of the second culprit's youth.

Hannibal responded more to the sound of the cocking of the revolver than Danny's shout. He skidded to a halt in the middle of the main street then slowly turned, making a quick assessment of his situation. With a sigh and a roll of his dark brown eyes he dropped the gunny sacks onto the hardened earth at his feet.

"Hands in the air, sonny," instructed Deputy Whitman, his gun aimed at Han and his grasp still firm on the younger boy's collar. "You and your friend here is under arrest."

Han pursed his lips and raised his hands in the air whilst casting an accusatory glare at his young partner in crime. Jed, however, was too busy struggling to free himself from the deputy's grip to notice Han's displeasure.

The commotion had started to attract a number of townsfolk, a couple of whom were helping to support the wheezing store owner.

"Looks like you've got your hands full there, Deputy," laughed the gunsmith, Max Sidwell, as he leaned against his shop doorway. "Need some help?"

"Wouldn't say no, Max. If you can take this here young fella I can get the cuffs on the other one." Danny Whitman was nothing if not committed to his job and although nothing bad ever happened in Serenity he always carried a pair of the new-fangled ratchet handcuffs in his back pocket, just in case.

Max stepped down from the boardwalk and took a firm hold of the wriggling boy. As the deputy loosened his grip on Jed's collar the boy saw his chance and took an almighty swing with his right arm catching Max square in the solar plexus, knocking the wind out of him and almost doubling him over. There were gasps from the ladies in the small group that had gathered out of curiosity but the odd chuckle could also be heard as a few of Max's drinking buddies enjoyed their friend's misfortune.

His hands still held high in the air, Han winced as Jed's fist connected with the gunsmith. _Great_ , he thought, _now we're in real trouble_ — _theft and assault_.

"No, Jed! Don't!" he shouted, knowing full well that now his cousin was riled he would probably throw another punch. He wasn't wrong.

Oblivious to Han's plea Jed attempted to follow up with another punch to the side of the man's face but this time his swinging left arm was grabbed by one of Max's friends and prevented from finding its mark.

While this drama unfolded nobody happened to notice the stranger in a long black coat and black derby standing in a shady recess on the opposite site of the street. He had watched with detached amusement until the youngster's wildly thrown punch and attempted follow-up aroused his interest.

Now that one of the culprits was under control Deputy Whitman holstered his gun and quickly pulled Han's hands behind him. And so it was the first, but certainly not the last time in his life, that Hannibal felt the cold hard metal of handcuffs as they fastened around his wrists. Tentatively, he tested them — they were tight.

"Move," came the order as Danny pushed him forward before stooping to pick up the two discarded gunny sacks.

"Hey, those are mine," cried Mister Todd, having now fully recovered his breath.

"Not right now they ain't. These is evidence, Mister Todd," said Danny, revelling in his first arrest. "I'm sure ya can have them back later but the Sheriff needs to see 'em first, to see what he stole."

Han's lank, unwashed hair flopped around his face as, head down, he trudged dismally along the street in front of the deputy. Max and his friend, holding an arm each of a still squirming Jed, followed along with Mister Todd. A couple of interested bystanders completed the unusual parade toward the sheriff's office.

Erle Dunbar had been a small-town lawman most of his adult life. He was a tall, man in his mid forties with light brown hair which was beginning to grey at the temples and steady pale blue eyes which demanded the truth from any villain he happened to come across.

As the office door was flung open Erle turned from the pot-belly stove where he was pouring himself a cup of coffee to see his young deputy manhandle a dark haired youth through the door. The boy was dressed in dusty brown pants held up by brown suspenders over a cream coloured shirt which had not seen a washtub in some considerable time. An equally grubby-looking boy with what he assumed were corn-coloured curls followed; his blue shirt and grey pants were wearing thin and looked to be a little small for him.

"Well now, what's all this?" he asked, as he regarded the two surly looking youngsters with curiosity.

"They're both under arrest, Sheriff," stated Danny as Mister Todd also stepped inside and closed the door behind him.

"Oh? What've they done?"

"They robbed my store, that's what," interjected Mister Todd crossly before Danny could answer his boss. "Rifled through my store room and tried to make off with half of it."

Han glowered at the man's exaggeration.

Deputy Whitman placed the two gunny sacks on the desk. "Here's the evidence, Sheriff." He nodded toward the older boy. "Caught this one red-handed. He was carryin' these here sacks and runnin' outta the back of Mr Todd's store."

"Chased after him myself," added Mister Todd, proudly.

"Is that right, young fella?" asked the sheriff, casting his eyes over Han.

When Han didn't answer straight away Deputy Whitman nudged him in the back. "Hey, answer the Sheriff when he asks y'all a question!"

Han closed his eyes and sighed inwardly. They had been in a few scrapes since leaving the Home but none of them came anywhere close to this. He certainly hadn't foreseen them getting caught this time, let alone ending up in jail.

"My cousin and me, we ain't ate in a while," he mumbled, looking down at his boots.

"Uh-huh." Sheriff Dunbar looked at the younger boy. "And you must be the cousin."

Still trying to shrug off the firm grip on his arms Jed sent the sheriff a defiant stare. Erle frowned as he tried to hide the smile that threatened to take hold of the corners of his mouth. This one certainly had attitude.

"Takes two of you to hold a scrawny kid like this?" he asked the two men.

"He's an ornery one and no mistake, Sheriff," said Max. "Managed to land a punch right here in my belly before we got hold of him proper."

"Ah, so that's why you're looking a little peaked, Max." Sheriff Dunbar allowed himself a faint smile as he pictured the gunsmith almost being floored by this slip of a boy. He turned his attention back to Jed.

"So, what's your part in all this, sonny?"

Jed stuck his chin out and stayed silent.

Danny laughed. "As I see it, this one was the lookout, but he weren't doin' a very good job. Caught him easy. Didn't see me 'til he was danglin' at the end of my arm."

Han sent his cousin a grumpy sideways glance but Jed was now too busy focussing a hard look at the deputy to notice.

"Well, let's see what you've got in here, shall we," said Erle. He took hold of the bottom of both gunny sacks and emptied their contents onto his desk.

As each item tumbled out of the sacks Han grimaced again as the extent of his crime became clear. Having easily picked the lock on the rear door of the mercantile he had spent as much time as he dared investigating the goods in the storeroom, carefully selecting just what they needed, before he was discovered by Mister Todd.

On the desk lay two small loaves of bread, a large piece of cheese, a good few handfuls of beef jerky, a jar of pickles and a box of crackers. Four shiny red apples rolled across the desk and landed on the floor. Mister Todd tutted — they would be bruised now. The women of the town had a keen eye and he would have to charge less for them. As well as the food there were candles and matches, two sets of boot laces, two pairs of socks, a pocketknife and a large bar of lye soap.

It was Jed's first chance to see his cousin's haul and he felt like groaning aloud at the sight of four strings of liquorice, two bars of chocolate and a bag of jelly beans as they too emerged from the sacks. His shoulders slumped and he stopped trying to wrestle himself free.

"Well, that's quite a collection," remarked the sheriff.

"I hope you're going to lock them up Sheriff, we don't want their sort on the streets of our town, thieving from hard-working folk and causing trouble," grumbled Mister Todd.

Han glanced at the store owner and then his eyes met Jed's. Seeing the dismay on his young cousin's face spurred him into speaking up.

"We never stole anything before, Sheriff," he lied. "It's just that, well...we ain't had anything to eat for days and we was desperate. My cousin here, he's been ill, _real_ ill and I was just tryin' to get some food to build up his strength. Look, you can see how thin he is. He's almost wasted away. We did have a little money but we was robbed just outside of town and—"

"Okay boy, save the sob story." Erle shook his head and opened the top drawer of his desk. He tossed a ring of large iron keys towards his deputy. "Danny, lock 'em up will you. The one at the end with the two cots," he jerked his thumb casually in the direction of the cells.

"Aaww, you don't need to go lockin' us up," groaned Han as Danny gave him a nudge, grabbed Jed by the arm and ushered them both through to the jail. "We won't do it again, we promise. We'll be real good. Model citizens in fact, won't we, Jed?" Han looked over his shoulder at his cousin his eyes widening, telling Jed he'd better say something — he needed some support here.

"Oh, oh...sure," stuttered Jed, following Han's lead. "We won't do anythin' like it again - _ever_!"

Both boys were thrust into a cell and the door slammed shut with an ominous clang. The sound of the key as it turned in the lock imprinting itself indelibly in Hannibal's memory.

Jed slumped down onto one of the cots but Han stood still not knowing what to do with his wrists still cuffed.

"Back yourself up to the bars and give me your hands," ordered the deputy.

Han did as instructed and was relieved to feel the metal of the handcuffs loosen, allowing him to pull his hands free. He stood rubbing his wrists.

Sheriff Dunbar shook hands with Max and his friend, thanked them for their trouble and showed them out.

"So, what happens now?" asked the shopkeeper. "I need to get back to my store. My wife is there but I don't want to leave her on her own for too long."

"Well, Mister Todd, I have to take a full statement from you but we can do that a little later. How 'bout I come over just before closing?" He followed Mister Todd's gaze. "You can have your goods back then too. I'll bring them along with me."

"That will be just fine, Sheriff." Mister Todd hurried back to his waiting customers.

Strolling back to the occupied cell Sheriff Dunbar stood next to his deputy with his hands on his hips frowning at the two miscreants.

"Now, as you two are gonna mean me having to do a lot of paperwork, which I ain't real happy about, I think you'd better start by telling me your names."

Jed stared straight ahead and stayed tight-lipped. Han briefly considered making something up but, the way his cousin had performed today he obviously couldn't be trusted to remember a false name, so he dismissed the idea. It wasn't as if they had a criminal record — until today — he thought bitterly.

"I'm Hannibal Heyes," he said, before tilting his head toward the blond. "He's Jedediah Curry."


	2. Chapter 2

Jed Curry sat on his cot, his back resting against the rough wall of the jail cell. The bricks felt cold through the threadbare fabric of his shirt. He pulled his legs up close to his chest, wrapped his arms around them and rested his forehead on his knees.

Han lay curled up on the other cot with his back to him. He hadn't spoken hardly a word since the cell door had slammed shut.

Jed knew he had let his cousin down but was at a loss as to how he could make it up to him. He owed Han a lot.

It was the older boy who had kept them alive ever since that moonlit April night when, boots tied together by the laces and hung round their necks, they had tip-toed out of the dormitory and down the passageway to the first of many doors. Here, with the deft flick of a hair pin which he had acquired on a midnight foray to Matron's office, Han had sprung the lock and they had made their way down the stairs to the next barrier. This lock was a little more robust and it took a couple of minutes and a little more manipulation before it clicked loudly, making the two boys jump. Confident that nobody else had heard the noise Han turned the doorknob and was just about to push the door open when it made the faintest of creaks. Both boys froze and Jed stared at his cousin in alarm.

Hannibal's months of planning had taken all eventualities into account and he reached into his pocket to produce a small tin. The tin contained the equivalent of a large spoonful of goose fat, the result of another midnight excursion, this time to the kitchen. Working quickly he dipped his fingers into the tin and applied a small amount onto the hinges. Cautiously he pushed the door back and forth, a slow smile creeping across his face as he noted Jed's surprise that it now moved silently.

Another corridor and yet another door opened with the hair pin. Now came the tricky part. Rather than making their way down the main staircase, which would have meant them passing the sleeping quarters of most of the home's staff, Han pointed to a window. Releasing the padlock securing the simple catch he pushed the frame so that the central section pivoted outwards and, after giving Jed a boost onto the sill, he watched his cousin crawl through the window and start down the drainpipe.

Han being taller than Jed by a good eight inches meant he did not have any trouble climbing onto the sill, but the small window required a little more effort to silently wriggle his rangy physique through. So as not to put too much strain on the drainpipe he checked that Jed had finished his descent before lowering himself down the pipe.

Once both boys were safely on the ground they lost no time in crossing the open space to the perimeter wall. Flattening their backs against the bricks they edged along it until they arrived at a small wooden door. Han drew back the long iron bolts and used a nail he had flattened the tip of to spring the large padlock.

Slipping through the gate they closed it behind them then sat down on the dirt road to quickly pull on their boots. Pausing for a second or two they shared a triumphant grin before racing off into the night.

Deputy Whitman sat in the sheriff's chair his feet resting on the corner of the desk and his hands behind his head. He had made himself very comfortable in his superior's absence. Erle Dunbar had gone to take the statement from Mr Todd so Danny was making the most of being in charge.

A loud knock on the door startled him and, frowning at his failure to stay alert, he got up to answer it. After exchanging a few words with a large moustachioed man he placed the tray he was handed onto the desk and removed the cloth to uncover two large steaming bowls.

Jed suddenly found himself pulled out of his despondency by an alluring aroma.

Danny approached the cell, a bowl in each hand. "Here's your supper, boys." He couldn't help but grin as he watched Jed nearly fall off his cot with excitement.

"It's stew!" the boy exclaimed, vigorously shaking the figure on the other cot. "Look, Han. Stew! We've got stew!"

Momentarily, Hannibal Heyes put his brooding aside and sat up, his stomach rumbling at the smell of the food as Danny pushed the two bowls through the gap at the bottom of the door. Jed grabbed a bowl and took a long appreciative sniff at the rising steam before holding it out to his cousin. Han leaned past him and picked up the other bowl from the floor.

Jed was too excited for this non-too-subtle sign of rejection to register and both boys tucked in, ignoring the burn of the hot gravy as they eagerly shovelled the stew into their hungry mouths.

"Who'da thought we'd get fed like this, huh?" said Jed, noisily chewing on a piece of meat.

"Well they ain't gonna let us starve. Even _prisoners_ have to eat," Han grouched without raising his eyes from his food.

The contents of Jed's bowl disappeared quickly and he leaned back against the bars, the bowl still resting in his lap. Belching loudly, he closed his eyes and a contented smile crept across his face. That was the best thing he'd eaten in months. Han was only a few mouthfuls behind him and when he had finished he dropped the spoon into his bowl with a clatter before wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. Placing the bowl on the floor he pushed it back toward the door. Jed opened his eyes and copied what the older boy had done.

He sat watching as Han inspected the faint marks left on his wrists by the handcuffs.

"Han? Han!"

" _What?!"_ Brown eyes looked up and flashed dangerously.

The blond boy swallowed slowly. "Ain'tcha gonna say nuthin'?" he asked, quietly.

"Nuthin' to say." Han looked away.

"Ain'tcha gonna yell at me?"

"No point, Jed. We got caught. We're in jail. No point in yellin'."

"I'm real sorry."

"Mmmm."

Jed's blue eyes started to prickle and he quickly blinked back the tears that threatened. Han was his friend, his only kin, and he had been trying so hard to look after him...no, after them both, since they left Valparaiso.

"I know it was my fault — you told me to keep watch — I shoulda been watchin'."

"Ain't that a fact!"

"It won't happen again, Han, I promise. Next time you tell me to watch your back, I'll watch your back. I won't get distracted."

"And what makes you think there's gonna _be_ a next time?"

Jed thought for a moment then asked, haltingly. "They... they will let us outta here, won't they?"

"Dunno. I ain't never been in jail before. Doubt they'll lock us up for life though. Most likely they'll send us to another orphanage."

"Aw, no!" Jed grasped two handfuls of his curls.

Hannibal cast the blue tear-filled eyes a disapproving look. "Ain't nothing we can do about it right now so don't go getting all sappy on me," he griped.

Suddenly, an idea popped into Jed's head and he brightened. "Hey, you could pick the lock on the door," he hissed. "We could break outta here in the middle of the night like we was outlaws in a dime novel."

Han snorted. "Those are just stories, Jed. Anyhow, did you see the size of that key? I've only got bent nails and hairpins and they sure won't move a lock like that."

Jed's face fell.

Han swung his legs back onto his cot and once again turned his back on his cousin.

It was then that the office door opened and Sheriff Dunbar entered accompanied by a woman. Several years younger than the sheriff, she wore a pale blue dress with a deep flounce at the hem, the high collar and long sleeves were both trimmed with lace. Her pretty blonde hair was complemented by a dainty straw bonnet bedecked with matching pale blue ribbons.

The deputy's boots hit the floor with a thud as he scrambled to his feet. He blushed. "Af'noon, ma'am."

Mrs Dunbar smiled at the young man. "Hello, Danny. You enjoying your new job?"

"Sure am. Made my first arrest today," he said, his chest puffing out a little.

"So I heard."

"Those two had their supper yet, Danny?" asked the sheriff.

"Yessir, I was just gonna go collect the bowls. It sure disappeared real quick." Danny chuckled as he walked towards the cell and pulled the empty bowls from under the door. Placing them on the tray he regarded them with a frown.

"Ain't they on big side for prisoners?"

"Yeah well, they look half starved so I told Luigi to make the portions large ones," explained the sheriff.

"So, these are the two you were telling me about." Han didn't move but Jed raised his head at the sound of a female voice.

Mrs Dunbar approached the cell door and in doing so her skirt made a swishing sound across the floor as she walked. Once again, from the depths of his memory, Jed recalled the same sound when his mother was all dressed up for Sunday church. Large blue eyes regarded her curiously.

"Yep, this is them, Maggie." Sheriff Dunbar wandered across the office to stand beside his wife. "Do you think there might be any clothes left from the church bazaar that'll fit 'em?"

"Maybe. It would help to see how tall they are."

The cell door rattled as the sheriff shook it. "Hey, you two, get over here!"

Now that his temper had cooled, at the authoritative tone Jed jumped off his cot and did as he was told, Han took his time responding but complied nonetheless.

Magdalena Dunbar ran kind blue eyes over the two figures standing in front of her.

"Oh Erle, they're little more than boys," she exclaimed, softly. "Do they really need to be locked up?"

"They _did_ rob the mercantile, Maggie. Well... this one did," Erle pointed to Hannibal who cast a recalcitrant look back at him. "The other one's his lookout."

"One boy couldn't have taken very much, surely?"

"Naw, just a few things from the storeroom. Didn't take any hard cash, but Mister Todd's pretty riled about it. I had no choice but to lock 'em up."

Maggie sighed while she looked both boys up and down. "I suppose there might be a few things that'll fit. I'll bring in what I can find and they'll just have to try them on for size. How long will you keep them here?"

"Oh, they'll be here a while yet," the sheriff nodded thoughtfully, noting with interest the young prisoners' reaction to this piece of news. Han thrust his hands in his pockets and rolled his eyes but Jed looked down at his feet as he ran the back of his hand over his still moist eyes, streaking some of the ground-in dirt across his cheeks.

Maggie couldn't resist reaching a hand through the bars to touch Jed's dirty blond curls with the tips of her fingers.

"C'mon, Maggie." The sheriff took his wife gently by the arm and ushered her back through the office and out into the street.

Shaking his head Han turned to Jed. "Sheesh, you're gonna have to toughen up, y' know. Thought that darn Home would've beaten it into you, if nothin' else."

Jed straightened up, his hands balled into fists and his damp eyes icy. "I am tough! I can fight real good - you know I can!"

The corners of Han's mouth twitched at his young cousin's feisty stance. "Yeah, I know you can fight. I've seen ya — too many times. You missed most of your lessons locked in that cellar with no supper 'cept what I could push through the grating."

"Pearson kept sayin' stuff about my Ma! I had to punch him!"

Han sighed. "I know you felt you had to, but like I kept tellin' you, he didn't even know your Ma. Jed, those fist of yours are gonna get you into trouble, and I mean _big trouble_ one day. You're gonna have to figure out some other way of settling _dis_ -putes and the like. Preferably something where you don't come away all bruised and bloodied."

Jed slumped down on his cot. "I know, Han...but what?"

ooooo-OOO-ooooo

The following morning, the boys were given a meagre breakfast of bacon with a couple of biscuits, but it was enough to have Jed considering that being in jail wasn't as bad as he thought it would be, although he didn't think it wise to voice this opinion to his cousin. He was dry, he had a bed (of sorts) to sleep on, _and_ he was being fed.

Looking as pretty in yellow as she had yesterday in blue Magdalena Dunbar returned to the jail mid-morning with a large canvas bag bulging with cast-off clothes. Danny once again jumped to his feet and escorted her through to the cells.

Han and Jed sat up on their cots, watching with interest.

Maggie smiled her thanks at Danny and stood patiently next to the bars.

Deputy Whitman looked at her. "Ma'am?"

"You will need to open the door, Deputy."

"Couldn't we just push the clothes through to them, ma'am?" Danny queried.

Maggie shook her head. "Oh, that won't do at all. I need to see if they fit properly."

"But, ma'am I..."

Her expression unwavering, Maggie folded her hands at her waist and waited. The young deputy hesitated for a moment then, not wanting to upset his boss's wife, reluctantly turned and walked to the desk to retrieve the keys.

Inserting a key into the lock he turned to Maggie. "Now, ma'am, I'm gonna let ya in there but, for your own protection, I'm gonna hafta draw my gun, just in case they try anythin'. And ya do understand I'll have to lock the door again while you're in there, don'tcha?"

"Yes, Deputy, I quite understand," she nodded demurely. "I'm sure my husband will be very pleased to hear that you are following the correct procedure." She smiled to herself at the deputy's zealous attitude, but she knew he was only doing his job.

"Yes, ma'am. Thank you, ma'am." Danny drew his gun and swung the cell door open; Maggie picked up the bag and stepped inside. The door clanged shut and the key turned before the deputy took a step back, his eyes watching both prisoners carefully.

"Now," said Maggie, rummaging through the clothes. "Let's see what we've got for you two that will fit."

"This is real kind of you, ma'am," said Han, gracing the woman with one of his most devastating smiles. "Me and Jed, we really appreciate it. I can't tell you when we last had any new clothes - or new 'old' ones, for that matter."

Maggie looked up from the pair of trousers she was holding and, catching the infectious grin, smiled back. "These may fit you...Han, is it?"

"Yes, ma'am. It's short for Hannibal," he replied, standing up and holding the trousers against his waist. "He's Jedediah," he said, nodding towards his cousin.

Maggie beckoned to Jed as she pulled a brown shirt from the pile of clothes which was now building up on the floor. "Come here, young man. Let's try this."

Jed stood stiffly to attention as he let Maggie hold the shirt against him.

"It's a little on the big side but you should grow into it," she said, satisfied.

Han snorted derisively. "Huh, Jed ain't grown any since he was ten."

Jed shot a glare at his cousin, a look which turned into a self-satisfied smile when Maggie said, "Oh, he's going to grow into a fine young man. Just you wait and see, Hannibal."

A few more well-chosen items later and both boys stood holding a new set of clothes. Without thinking, Jed quickly put his down and started to undo his belt.

"Hey! Don't go undoin' your pants, boy, there's a lady present!" chided Danny.

Maggie smiled as Jed blushed crimson. "It's alright. You can try them on once you've washed off some of that grime," she said, gently. Reaching to the bottom of her bag she held up two leather-bound volumes. "Can either of you read?"

Han's eyes lit up at the sight of the books. "Yes, ma'am!"

"Kinda," was Jed's murmured reply.

"Well, here you are. I'll leave it up to you to choose which one you want."

With a sincere "thank you, ma'am," Han dropped his new clothes onto his cot and took the books eagerly, his brown eyes devouring the tooled lettering of the titles on the books' spines.

"Okay, you two, don't just stand there! Help the lady by putting those duds back in the bag," ordered the deputy, pointing at the clothes on the floor. Both boys hurriedly stuffed the discarded items back into the bag and Han handed it to Maggie before settling on his cot and quickly turning the pages of Silas Marner.


	3. Chapter 3

Pádraig Flanagan, Fox to his friends, leaned his back against the wall of the Serenity Land Office. A few flakes of green paint broke away from the weather-beaten wood and settled on the shoulders of his black coat. He brushed them away with some irritation.

From where he stood, opposite the jail, he had observed the sheriff leave about an hour ago and the pretty young lady with the large bag was now emerging onto the street once more. He knew the deputy had to be there but he could wait a little while longer to see if the sheriff returned. While he waited, Fox ran the tip of a pocketknife under his fingernails, blowing away the dirt as he inspected each one carefully.

Flanagan was a self-made man and he liked to think that one day he would be a man of substance.

Along with thousands of others, 1846 had seen Joseph and Ailis Flanagan make the decision to leave their famine-ravaged home in Ireland. They used what little money they had to buy tickets for themselves and their three children on a ship bound for Liverpool, England where, a few days later, they boarded another vessel to cross the Atlantic Ocean to New York.

Not all the family arrived in the new country. Fox's older brother and sister both died of typhus on the over-crowded, disease-ridden ship but, despite the odds being against him, three year old Pádraig survived the twelve week journey.

Life in New York was hard for Joseph and Ailis, almost as hard as the one they had left back in Ireland. Work was scarce and badly paid — their situation made worse by the fact that Ailis fell pregnant soon after they arrived. The pregnancy didn't go well which meant they had to rely on only one income for a while.

The tiny attic they found to rent had barely enough room for two adults, never mind two adults and two young children but the situation never arose. The new baby died, followed within hours by Ailis, leaving Joseph with four year old Pádraig to raise by himself.

Grief stricken, it wasn't long before Joseph turned to drink, lost his job and began thieving to buy liquor. Pádraig would no doubt have perished if it hadn't been for the woman in the room below them. She had heard the boy crying day and night and took it upon herself to remove the dirty and emaciated child from his father and place him in the orphanage on Randalls Island in the East River.

Here he went to school and in the hours when he wasn't in the school room he was working on the island's farm and garden. By the age of twelve he was indentured to an up-state farmer but, hating every minute of working on the land, he eventually ran away back to New York City in the company of a travelling salesman who picked up on his talent for bare knuckle fighting and hired him out for bouts around the city. His canny, sometimes sly, way of fighting earned him the nickname of Fox.

At last, Pádraig Flanagan had found something he was good at. He also came to the conclusion that he didn't want to be the person being punched all the time and quickly discovered that there was a lot of money to be made if you knew how to recognize a good fighter when you saw one, and could train and promote him well.

Fox made every effort to avoid joining the army during the War of the Rebellion and life had certainly looked up since he had crossed the Mississippi River and headed west. He now had a stable of good young fighters who travelled from town to town taking on all comers and making him a good living. Not all the boys with him were there of their own volition, however, but if they continued to fight well he made it his business to keep hold of them, by whatever means possible.

The boy he had seen throw that vicious punch in the street yesterday had certainly caught his attention. Fox licked his lips as he considered the profit that an innocent-looking, scrawny kid like him could bring. With his blond hair and blue eyes he could reel in a multitude of unsuspecting plungers right across the county and beyond, so Fox felt it would be well worth his while negotiating some sort of payment, possibly by way of bail, in order to take the boy with him.

Half an hour later and with still no sign of the sheriff, Fox Flanagan decided to try his luck anyway. Fixing a friendly smile on his face he pushed himself away from the wall and straightening his black derby ambled across the road.

"Good mornin', Deputy!"

Danny looked up from the wad of wanted posters he was studying to see a stranger standing in the open doorway. "What can I do for ya?"

"I heard about the scuffle in the street yesterday. Sure is a sorry business when it involves young 'uns."

"Yeah, so?"

"Well, you'll not be wanting both those young troublemakers staying around this lovely little town now will you? So, I've come to offer my assistance."

Deputy Whitman regarded the stranger sceptically. "Assistance?"

"By offering to pay bail. I can pay the bail on one of them, say...the younger one." Fox nodded towards the figures laying on the cots in the cell. "He don't look as crooked as that other fella." Fox felt he had the lawman's attention so he upped the blarney. "My lady wife and I would make sure he goes to school, learns a trade, and becomes a clean-living, law-abiding citizen, alongside the other boys whose lives we're turning around."

"You run an orphanage or somethin'?"

"Not an orphanage, no. Just a good, loving home."

Danny frowned as he considered the stranger's offer. "Look, Mister, you'd best speak to the sheriff. As far as I know bail ain't been decided on, for either of 'em."

"I see. When are you expecting him back?"

"Sometime later, I guess."

Fox thanked him and tipped his hat politely before letting himself out onto the boardwalk where he paused momentarily, absently fingering the pocketknife in his coat pocket.

If the sheriff wasn't intending to post bail on those two then Fox suspected he must be waiting to contact a local orphanage. That was a real shame... that kid had a good right hand.

His small troupe of fighters was camped a little way outside of town and it was time they moved on. It would take them a few days to get to Hortonburg and once there he would need to make the necessary arrangements, maybe even grease a few palms, in order to obtain the best pitch at the forthcoming carnival. Missing out on a place in the summer carnival circuit was something that he just couldn't afford.

Reaching the decision that he would return to Serenity in a few months' time just in case the kid was still hanging around, Fox mounted up and rode out of town.

ooooo-OOO-ooooo

That evening at the opposite end of town, Erle Dunbar made sure to wipe his feet thoroughly before opening the back door to his house. Maggie, having been listening for his arrival, emerged from the kitchen smoothing her hands down the front of her apron.

"You alright, Maggie?" Erle asked with concern for her faced looked flushed. The thought of her suffering another fever filled him with dread and it was a little late in the day for her to be baking.

She smiled. "I'm fine, why?"

"Oh, nothing. What's for supper?"

"Your favourite. Come and sit down. You must be tired; you've had a long day." She hurried him into the cosy kitchen. Erle sat down at the scrubbed pine table.

"Coffee?"

"Yes, please." He watched as she busied herself fetching the cup from the rack on the dresser and pouring the steaming brew. She set it on the table in front of him and turned back to the stove.

"Dinner won't be long, I—"

"Maggie, what's going on?"

Magdalena Dunbar turned to face her husband and at that moment Erle noted the determined set of her mouth and had a feeling he probably wasn't going to like the answer to his question. She hurried back over to the table.

"I've been thinking about those two boys."

And there it was. He had caught the look in her eye yesterday in the jail and knew it wouldn't be long before an idea formed in that spirited mind of hers.

"Heyes and Curry? What about them?" he asked, warily.

"Well, they obviously have nowhere to live."

"Right now they appear to be living in my jail."

"Now Erle, you saw the state they are in. Filthy, with little more than rags on their backs!"

"I saw... and I can smell," Erle replied with the hint of a smile.

"They must have been orphaned in the War."

"We don't know that."

"They're orphans, I'm sure of it. Oh, I hate to think what horrible sights they might have seen, the awful times they must have been through in their short lives. That sort of thing can leave a lasting impression on a young boy." Maggie looked pleadingly at her husband. "They need a home."

"They probably had a home of sorts and ran away from it."

"Oh, you know what I mean, don't try and pretend you don't. They need a _real home._ Be part of a family. I know the people who run those places try their best but you can't call an orphanage a _real home_. There have been so many children orphaned, abandoned even, over the past five years. They can't give all of them everything they need."

"Maggie, we don't know anything about them."

"We know one thing; those boys need someone to show them what's right and what's wrong."

"Well, it could be my imagination, honey, but now that they've had a couple of nights in jail, I'd say they _know_ stealing's wrong," remarked Erle, flippantly.

Maggie frowned. "I don't for one minute believe those two are criminals and neither do you," she stated obstinately. Grasping her husband's arm her voice softened. "They stole because they were hungry. They need love, Erle. I can give them that... and so can you."

Looking into his wife's now glistening eyes Erle knew all too well the reason Magdalena wanted to give the boys a home.

Ever since their wedding three summers ago she had been hoping for a baby and when the day eventually came and Doc Withinshaw confirmed she was indeed pregnant, they were both overjoyed. Their joy was short-lived, however, as two months later Maggie fell ill with a fever and the child was lost. At the time Erle had wondered whether his young wife would ever fully recover, so devastated was she by the loss, but she proved to be a lot tougher than he had ever imagined by insisting they try again as soon as she was well enough. Unfortunately, the Lord in his infinite wisdom had not yet blessed them with another baby and although she never said as much, he knew that Maggie was desperate to be a mother. Desperate enough to be one in any way possible.

Erle took a deep breath and let it out with a sigh. "We'll have to talk to them, lay down some rules but, I guess they could come here — for a week or two, to begin with. Then, _if_ they behave themselves..."

Maggie let out a squeal of delight and threw her arms around her husband's neck.

"Just don't be too surprised if they run off with half the contents of this house stuffed in a gunny sack," he gasped through her tight embrace.

Smiling she released him, saying confidently, "They won't."

"I don't reckon Mister Todd's gonna be too pleased about them staying in town though."

"Oh, don't you worry about Mister Todd, I'll speak to him. I bet he'll be fine once Han apologizes."

The sheriff chuckled. "Apologizes?!"

Magdalena pursed her lips in thought. "Hmm, maybe we can work something out like a way for Han to make it up to him. That storefront of his could do with a coat of paint; Han could do that. Work off his debt, so to speak."

Erle took her hand in his and gave it a squeeze. "One step at a time, honey. Let's just see if they want to stay with us first."

ooooo-OOO-ooooo

Maggie rose at daybreak, as usual. Following her normal routine she stoked up the stove and, after fetching a bucketful from the pump in the yard, put some water on to heat. Upon hearing the bedroom floorboards creak she took a fresh pitcher of warm water in to Erle for him to wash and shave. Soon the aroma of frying bacon and fresh coffee filled the air and pulled the lawman away from his ablutions. By the time Erle sat down at the kitchen table a plate of eggs, bacon and freshly baked biscuits was set in front of him.

Once her husband had left to take over from his deputy, Maggie set about washing the dishes and scrubbing the table before allowing herself to give in to her mounting excitement. She had lain awake for a good part of the night working out how she was going to set up a room for the two boys and planning their first proper meal as a family.

The small back bedroom was bright and cheery. The walls were covered in blue printed wallpaper and a pair of blue striped curtains dressed the small window. There was a chest of drawers next to the door and a single metal framed bed the length of the wall underneath the window. As there was not enough space for another proper bed she set about making up the trundle bed in order that the boys could sleep near each other. She had considered putting them top to tail in the same bed but felt it may just be a little small for two adolescent boys to sleep comfortably.

Once she was satisfied with the bedroom Maggie went outside and pulled the large oak bathtub out of one of the stalls and into the centre of the barn. Filling a couple of buckets at the pump she took them into the kitchen and transferred the water into two large pots which, with some difficulty, she heaved onto the stove. By the time they were all back from the sheriff's office the water should have heated up nicely.

Lastly, she tended to her own needs, washing then dressing in a fresh blue and white gingham dress and weaving her hair into two large braids before wrapping them around her head and securing them with a tortoiseshell comb. Donning a straw bonnet and with her heart pounding, she set off into town.

For some reason this morning Maggie felt sure that the sunlight appeared brighter than usual, the sky bluer, the air clear and fresh and, to cap it all, every single resident of Serenity seemed to be smiling. What she failed to realize was that they were, in fact, returning her beaming smile.

Looking up from his paperwork as she opened the office door Erle appreciated his wife's sparking blue eyes and pink cheeks. He knew how excited she would be and hoped that these two young runaways would listen to what she had to say and recognize that the offer of a home came straight from her heart. Maggie looked eagerly at Erle as he took the large bunch of keys from the drawer and led the way to the cells.

At the sound of jangling keys Jed sat up wondering if a second helping of food might be forthcoming but it was Maggie's soft, "Good morning, boys," that dragged Han's attention away from his book.

With a respectfully mumbled "ma'am", both Han and Jed watched curiously as Erle unlocked the cell door and Maggie stepped inside. She sat down on the edge of Jed's cot while Sheriff Dunbar stood in the open doorway. Maggie folded her hands in her lap, glanced a little anxiously at her husband who nodded in encouragement, then took a deep breath and began.

"Hannibal. Jedediah. I have something very important to tell you." The two boys stared in her direction. "You're going to be released from jail."

Han rolled his eyes. "About time!" he said, snapping his book shut and getting to his feet.

"However, there are some terms... "

Jed glanced uncertainly at his cousin as Han groaned, "I knew it."

"Shall I tell you what those terms are?" continued Maggie.

"Pfftt. If you have to."

"Watch your mouth, boy!" growled the sheriff.

Han murmured a reluctant apology and sat back down with a thud.

"You've both spent some time in an orphanage, haven't you?" asked Maggie.

"Somethin' like that," confirmed Han, while Jed nodded silently.

"Well, from now on you're going to live in a proper house where you will have a room of your own with a comfortable bed to sleep in and food in your stomachs." A smile flickered across her lips.

"Both of us, ma'am? Together?" Jed stared at her, his eyes like saucers.

In contrast, Han's eyes narrowed. "A house? Where?"

"Here in Serenity, just on the edge of town as a matter of fact.

Smiling indulgently at his young wife Erle urged, "C'mon, Maggie, tell 'em the whole plan."

Maggie returned his smile. "Alright. The truth of it is... you're coming to live with us. Neither the sheriff nor I want to see you living on the street. We also don't want you to go to an orphanage where you might be separated and this is the ideal way for you to stay together. Jed, you can continue with your schooling and Han, you can look for employment here in town or on one of the local ranches. I'm sure the sheriff will put in a good word for you. Neither of you will have to steal anymore. And, hopefully one day soon, we may start to feel like a family."

Han and Jed sat in stunned silence, staring first at Maggie and then at Erle.

Now, if he was completely honest, Jed would have to admit that he didn't much care for living from one day to the next, stealing or begging for food and sleeping in barns or hunkered down in a log store for the night to escape the ever-present Kansas wind. Therefore, despite his unwavering faith in his cousin's ability to look after them he did find the idea of having a proper home very appealing. He also really liked Miz Dunbar; she was pretty — a little like how he thought he remembered his mother to look — with a ready smile and a soft, sweet voice. Despite the fact that they had been under arrest, the sheriff hadn't treated them badly and Jed's instincts told him that Erle Dunbar was a kind and fair man, a man you didn't have to fear unless you did something wrong; then he figured he'd give you the whuppin' you probably deserved just like anybody else.

"Well, boys?" Sheriff Dunbar had recognized that, out of the two, Hannibal was the one they had to win over but he was sure that once they were back home and settled, Maggie would quickly do that.

"Han?" asked Jed expectantly, silently praying that his cousin would agree.

Hannibal Heyes looked straight into his cousin's eyes. He knew exactly what Jed was thinking. From as far back as his memory would allow he and Jed had found that they didn't always need words to communicate with each other and right now he knew exactly what his cousin was telling him. Jed wanted, no — needed — a real home.

Han swallowed hard. "Me and Jed, we'd like that. Thank you."

Upon hearing this Jed's face broke into the biggest grin Han had seen in a very long time. This was closely followed by a loud whoop as he began pulling on his tattered old boots.

"There is still a matter of those terms," Sheriff Dunbar said while contemplating the large bunch of keys in his hand. "We need to get those straight before I let you out of here." Both boys immediately stopped gathering up the pile of clean clothes from the end of their cots to give him their full attention. "Once you are under our roof we will expect you to mind your manners at all times; you'll keep yourselves _and_ your room clean and tidy, and do the chores you are given without complaint. _And_...now this is real important... I want you to give me your word that you won't steal from us, nor will you run away. If you're not happy you need to say so and we'll try and sort something out."

Offering his hand to Han, the sheriff added, solemnly, "Do we have a deal?"

"Deal," said Han as he shook the man's hand. Jed quickly followed the older boy's lead.

"Good," said Maggie, a smile of delight lighting up her pretty face. "Come on, you two. You both need a bath and I've got water heating on the stove." Jed's uncertain glance toward Han was duly noted as Maggie steered him out of the cell. "Oh, a bit of soap and water won't hurt you, Jed. And you never know," she added with a laugh, "I may actually get to see what colour those curls of yours are supposed to be."


	4. Chapter 4

"Jedediah!"

Magdalena Dunbar stepped onto the back porch and rattled a lunch pail in the air.

A head of golden hair appeared around the henhouse door. "Coming!" Carefully carrying a small egg-filled basket Jed Curry trotted toward her.

"Hurry now," she urged, placing a brown wide-brimmed felt hat on the unruly curls while briskly brushing dust and bits of straw from his clothes. "Miss Stevens is already ringing the bell. You don't want to be late."

"No, ma'am."

"Here," Maggie swapped the basket in his hand for the small galvanized metal pail. "I've put two biscuits in there as well as some cornbread and syrup, _and_ a hard-boiled egg. It's going to be a long day if you're having a shooting lesson with Danny after school. We don't want you hungry now, do we?"

Jed flashed a grin, _"No, ma'am!"_

The youngster then took off at a run in the direction of town, his free hand holding the hat firmly on his head. He didn't seem to mind that, even though he was only two years younger than Han, Jed was happy to still be clad in boy's knee-length pants and go barefooted most of the time. Looking younger than his years had made it easier for him to fit in at school as most other boys of his age were already helping on the homestead or being sent to work elsewhere to earn a few, much needed, dollars.

Maggie walked to the gate so that she could watch Jed disappearing at speed down the dusty road. Life had certainly changed for her and Erle over the past few months and she was enjoying every minute of it.

They must have made a curious sight, the four of them, as they left the jailhouse and made their way along the boardwalk. Several of the townsfolk had turned to stare but it was the disapproving scowl on Mister Todd's face when he spied the two boys through the mercantile shop window that had almost made Maggie laugh out loud.

Once home, they had gone straight into the barn and it was there that Jed was faced with the prospect of having to undergo his first proper wash in over three months. Persuading him that taking a bath really was in his best interests had taken some doing, but after Erle had threatened him with sleeping in the barn on his own as well as eating all his meals there, and Han had just plain threatened him, he had concluded that hot water and soap might not do him as much harm as he thought.

With some assistance Maggie had supplied the hot water, soap and towels but in order to maintain the boys' dignity Erle alone had supervised the much needed ablutions. Once both boys were dry and dressed in their clean clothes Maggie had returned, sat them down on an upturned bucket, and gone through their hair with a fine-toothed comb before trimming it to a manageable length.

It was only then that they had been deemed free of any undesirable passengers such as lice and had finally been allowed to enter the house.

Picking up the basket of eggs and walking back into the kitchen Maggie smiled to herself as she recalled the boys' individual reactions to having a room of their own. Han had walked confidently into the small bedroom and immediately thrown himself on the bed, placing his hands behind his head and closing his eyes as if he was trying the room out for size. Jed, on the other hand had stood in the doorway, a whispered "Wow" on his lips. He had only ever shared a small loft with his older siblings or a cold, stark dormitory with twenty-three other boys.

"Is this... for us?" he'd asked and Maggie had nodded, showing him how to pull out the trundle bed to sleep on at night. "Ain't this great, Han," he'd said, and Han had sat up with a grin, saying, "Sure is, and it beats a jail cell any day!"

Supper that first evening was one of the most enjoyable meals Maggie could ever remember. Earlier, she had killed one of their chickens especially for the occasion, divided it into portions and fried it to her mother's special recipe. A large dish of creamed corn and another brimming with fluffy mashed potatoes also graced the table alongside a stack of freshly baked biscuits.

Jed, she had noted, had not bowed his head while they said grace but instead looked hungrily at the steaming food and, at their chorused Amen, he had quickly reached for the nearest piece of chicken only for Han to elbow him sharply in the ribs with a muttered reminder of "Manners!".

Maggie had taken great pleasure in dishing up good-sized portions onto Jed and Han's plates and she and Erle had watched with some amusement as the cousins fell upon their food while doing their best to demonstrate a few table manners.

"That sure was good," Han had said, placing his fork on the empty plate, "Wasn't it, Jed?"

Jed was in the process of going over his chicken bone for a third time. "Yeah," he replied dreamily, dropping it back on his plate with a sigh. He then caught Han's hard stare and said with feeling, "Oh... _real_ good, ma'am. Thank you, ma'am."

Maggie looked at the clean plates and empty bowls and laughed as her question of, "Has anyone got room for pie?" was answered with a hasty, "Yes!"

Once the boys were finally settled down to sleep Maggie and Erle had sat by the fire discussing the day's events and it was then that Erle had reminded her of her assumption that some of the boys' past experiences might not have been pleasant ones. He illustrated his point by telling her about the marks he had noticed on both boys' backs and thighs while they bathed; marks he was certain were the result of beatings at the orphanage and which were much more prevalent on Hannibal.

It was not until several weeks later, however, when Maggie had finally summoned up the courage to ask Han about it that he had told her about the severity and frequency of the beatings at the School for Waywards. Han also admitted to having sometimes lied about his involvement in a particular wrongdoing so that he could take a punishment in his younger cousin's stead. This was especially so in their first few months when, still deeply affected by the murder of his family, Jed was easily provoked into fights with the other boys.

Tears blurring her eyes at the memory of this conversation, Maggie opened the door to the boys' room. Standing in the doorway she smiled at their vain attempts to make their beds — a task neither appeared to be able to master. At least they were true to their word and kept their room clean. She turned to look at the chest of drawers where Han stacked his growing pile of books alongside the china bowl and pitcher and Jed kept the large Hernsheim cigarette tin she had given him so he had a place to store his odd collection of curios which included pieces of string, a stone with a hole in it, three dead beetles and part of a shed snake skin along with a couple of strangely bent nails and two hairpins, which Maggie thought to be the oddest of all.

Maggie returned to the warm kitchen and glanced at the clock. She needed to tackle that dough. The bread wouldn't bake itself.

ooooo-OOO-ooooo

Early that same morning Deputy Danny Whitman had greeted the sheriff with an unusual piece of news. There had been a robbery. Not in the middle of the day like the one the boys had attempted all those months back at Todd's Mercantile, but in the middle of the night at Doctor Withinshaw's surgery.

"Doc wasn't hurt was he?" Erle was concerned, doctors in that part of Kansas were hard to come by.

"Naw, he slept through the whole thing. Whoever did it was in and out real quick. They knew what they were after alright." Danny picked up a piece of paper and handed it to his boss.

Erle held it at arm's length and read, "One bottle of iodine, wound thread and needles, bandages, and a bottle of chloroform. Hmmph, sounds to me like somebody's been shot."

"Do you want me to go see the Doc?" Danny was eager to take on his first robbery investigation.

"No, you get off home. You need to be back in time to collect Jed for his shooting practice, remember? The boy's real excited. Was quizzin' me about guns and bullets all through last night's supper."

Danny chuckled. "He's keen alright, and pretty good considerin' he's only ever used a rifle up 'til now. Okay, Sheriff, I'll see you later."

Wandering over to the stove Erle picked up the coffee pot and grinned — it was heavy. Yep, Danny was sure getting the hang of his role as a deputy.

ooooo-OOO-ooooo

The lone hard-boiled egg rattled around the bottom of Jed's lunch pail as he jogged the short distance from the school house to the sheriff's office. Half-way down the main street he stopped by the mercantile and, shading his eyes, peered through the window. In the dim interior he could just make out his cousin in his long white grocer's apron at the back of the store and he waved vigorously to attract his attention.

It had taken all of Sheriff Dunbar's powers of persuasion to talk Mister Todd into allowing Han to make reparation for his crime by giving the storefront a fresh lick of paint and, much to everyone's surprise, he had applied himself wholeheartedly to the task. Even more surprising was that while Mister Todd had stood out in the street giving instructions, he had also made an effort to talk to the youth who had tried to rob his store and in so doing had discovered that young Hannibal had a very quick-witted and nimble mind; one that was good with numbers together with interesting and creative ideas on advertising and window displays all of which could be employed to the storekeeper's advantage.

As far as Han was concerned working at the mercantile was a piece of cake. Most days it was not too hard on the back with only the occasional heavy sack of flour or salt-pork barrel to move and was infinitely preferable to his other prospects such as ranching or ploughing fields. He didn't mind the ten hour days and especially liked the twenty dollars a month he was paid. Although he handed most of his wages over to Maggie as his contribution to the household, the two dollars he kept for himself meant he could cache some money away behind the loose piece of baseboard in their room as well as treat himself and Jed to the occasional peppermint stick or string of liquorice.

Han stopped counting boxes of soda crackers and returned Jed's wave. He then watched as the boy pulled a comical face at him through the window before jumping off the boardwalk and running off up the street.

Smiling to himself he considered how well they had settled into life with the Dunbars. Sure, there had been a few teething problems at the start one of which, for a certain curly-haired blond, was the combination of soap and water but as of late he was building up something of a tolerance for it and didn't have to be dragged into the tub. Han doubted whether Jed would ever really like taking a bath.

Han's biggest problem had been surrendering his self-imposed responsibility for his cousin and letting somebody else take charge — that somebody being the sheriff. Ever since the day when he was ten years old and the raiders had killed their folks and burned their farms, Hannibal Heyes had felt like a grown-up — he'd had to. Relinquishing this role had been so much harder than he had thought possible and had resulted in several confrontations with Erle, one of which had very nearly brought them to blows. Thankfully, on these rare occasions Maggie had been able to placate both parties and those ugly clashes were now a thing of the past.

Han had grown very fond of Maggie. Despite his occasional smart mouth, right from the very beginning she had treated him pretty much as an equal, asking his opinion on how long Jed should continue his schooling in order to improve his reading and writing and what kind of employment Han thought might suit him after that.

In Han's opinion, Danny giving Jed shooting lessons was a great idea. Jed Curry had always been blessed with boundless energy which needed to be channelled into something other than just chores or he was liable to get into mischief. Jed's father, Niall Curry had taught him how to use a rifle and therefore his eagerness to learn to use a revolver hadn't surprised Han at all. And, as it turned out, he was a fair shot. Han wondered whether his cousin might one day become a famous lawman and arrest notorious outlaws, like Jesse James.

ooooo-OOO-ooooo

Jed burst in through the door of the sheriff's office, making the lawman spill some of his coffee over his desk.

"What the...? Aaaww, Jed!"

"Oh, sorry. Danny ain't here yet, is he?" Jed rattled his pail. "Miz Dunbar gave me an egg and I wanna eat it before my lesson." He didn't think he would be able to shoot very well if he was hungry and, according to his stomach, supper was still a long way off.

Erle Dunbar pulled a bandana from his pocket and attempted to mop up the hot liquid. "Does it look like he's here?" he asked, testily. "Go sit down over there." He pointed to a seat across the room next to the gun rack.

Jed's gaze lingered on the small array of rifles and shotguns. "Can I take one down and look at it?"

"Yes. But put it back before you eat that egg. I don't want pieces of shell getting in the chamber."

"No, sir." Jed reached up and took down one of the pair of Spencer repeating rifles before sitting on the seat and running his hand along the long, smooth, metal barrel.

"Just keep that rifle pointed away from me, y' hear," said Erle.

"Yessir. Can I break this down and clean it?"

"Not now. I've got one at home, you can practice on that."

Jed's face lit up. "I can? When?!"

Erle sighed at Jed's persistence but he couldn't fault the boy's enthusiasm. "Maybe on Saturday once you've finished your chores. Every one of them, mind. We can do it together, that is if you can bear to wait 'til I get home."

"I'll do all my chores real good, whatever Miz Dunbar tells me to do."

"No hidin' out in the henhouse?"

"No sir," Jed said, dipping his head and smiling secretly. At the mention of hens he carefully placed the rifle back on the rack and, taking the egg out of his pail, proceeded to peel away the shell. He had just taken a large bite when Danny Whitman entered the office.

"Afternoon, Sheriff. Hey, Jed."

Jed's response was unintelligible but he quickly jumped to his feet and was out the door before the two men could blink.

"You takin' that pail with you, boy?" Jed's arm appeared and placed the lunch pail on the floor to the side of the door.

Danny smiled. "We'll be back in an hour or two, Sheriff."

Bouncing around behind the deputy's saddle Jed kept up a steady stream of excited chatter all through the short ride to the flat area of ground next to Oak Creek where Danny had stashed some cans and bottles for shooting practice.

"You know, Jed," said Danny as he tied the horse to a nearby tree, "If you're so all-fired set on being a gunman like the one's you're always telling me about in them stories Han reads out to you, you're gonna hafta learn not to talk so dang much."

Jed looked up questioningly from counting the remaining rounds in a box of bullets. "Huh?"

"You think about it, kid. Have you ever heard a story about a chatty gunman? Uh-uh. They have a certain way about them, kinda... _mysterious_. First they stand real still and they just stare...they don't even blink until...POW!" Danny mimed a fast draw. "And it's all over before the other fella realizes what's happened. Yessiree, that's how they do it, sure 'nough. Ask Han if you don't believe me."

Jed's blue eyes sparkled; he liked the sound of that.

They set up a line of cans on a fallen log and Danny paced out the distance to where Jed was to stand. "Here, you can wear this today," he said, unbuckling his gun belt and holding it out to the stunned boy. "Come on, let's try it out for size."

Placing the rig around Jed's waist he considered the strap, gauging the number of holes in it but, before he could search in his saddlebags for the marlin spike with which to make another hole, Jed had buckled up the belt and pushed it low on his slim hips.

"It would feel more comfortable a might higher," opined Danny.

Jed let his right hand rest near the butt of the revolver trying to adjust his stance to the combined weight of the holster and gun on his thigh. He shrugged. "Feels kinda good, right here."

Danny looked a little dubious and scratching his chin said, "Okay. We'll try it like that to start with but—"

"Can I shoot now?"

"You checked your load?"

Jed pulled the Colt and rotated the cylinder, leaving an empty chamber under the hammer for safety like Danny had shown him.

"Remember now, hold it real still... aim...hold it steady...pull the hammer back all the way and then squeeze the trigger."

BANG! PING! The first can flew into the air. Jed grinned. BANG! PING! Jed's grin was about to widen when he remembered what Danny had been saying about gunmen. BANG! PING! Endeavouring to keep his face expressionless Jed shot the remaining two cans off the log.

"Mighty fine shooting, Jed!"

"I wanna know what it feels like to draw and shoot. Can I try, Danny?"

Danny frowned. "Shake out those empty casings and let me see the cylinder." Having checked the gun he handed it back to Jed before setting up some bottles. Ambling back to the boy he said, "I'm gonna let you do it but only so long as we keep it between the two of us, y' hear." Jed nodded vigorously. "I don't want to lose my job because the sheriff thinks I've been teaching his ward how to be a gunman. First, just try drawin', not too fast now. Don't touch the hammer or trigger. Let's work on gettin' a clean draw."

Jed hadn't taken into account how different the gun would feel in his hand when he wasn't just holding it still and aiming at a target. It felt a great deal heavier and his first attempt didn't even clear leather. His second almost made it out of the holster but the tip of the barrel caught on the front seam at the last minute. This happened several times more until Jed made himself slow down a little and the gun finally came away without any hindrance.

"Okay, still needs a bit of work but, let's try it with this." Danny offered up a single bullet. At the boy's enquiring look Danny said, "One bullet at a time, kid. I don't wanna risk you shooting me with a second shot if the first one gets _you_ in the foot!"

Jed laughed at Danny's remark as he loaded the bullet, dropped the Colt back into the holster and took up his stance. "You gonna say 'go', or somethin'?" he asked.

Danny took a step back, paused, then hollered, "Go!"

Although it wasn't particularly fast, Jed surprised even himself by managing to clear the rig, cock the weapon and squeeze the trigger. The bullet, however, missed the bottle completely, embedding itself instead in the sandy ground beneath the log.

Noticing the boy's frown Danny asked, "Ain't as easy as you think, is it?" Jed shook his head dejectedly. "Here. Try again." Danny held out another bullet.

And so it continued until one of the bottles shattered. Amid Jed's whoops of delight Danny glanced at his pocket watch and announced it was a good time to be heading back to town.


	5. Chapter 5

"Want me to help you put your horse up, Deputy?"

"Naw, you get along home, Jed."

"Yessir. Thanks for the lesson."

Deputy Whitman smiled and waved away the boy's thanks before pulling the heavy saddle off his horse.

Still picturing his last shot shattering the bottle Jed Curry's mind was abuzz with excitement as he darted out of the rear door of the livery stable. He turned past the small corral intent on taking a shortcut round the back of the main street buildings and down the side alley to the sheriff's office. Jed had really taken to the feel of Danny's gun belt slung low on his hips and was so caught up with the thrill of actually drawing and firing a gun, just like in a dime novel, that he didn't notice the box wagon nor the man with the black coat and derby sitting on the open tailboard.

Whistling softly through his teeth he had just turned into the alley when a burly, unkempt man stepped out of the shadows directly in front of him blocking his path. Brought abruptly out of his reverie Jed came to a stop and jumped sideways when the man made a lunge toward him. Surprisingly fleet of foot the man again barred his way and just as Jed was about to turn and run in the other direction he was grabbed from behind. He tried to twist out of the firm grip but his struggle was cut short as a large wad of cotton was forced across his nose and mouth and for a split-second he smelled something sweet. Then the alley began to spin and everything went black.

Quickly and silently, Fox Flanagan scooped the unconscious boy into his arms and, having dumped the limp figure onto the rough boards of the wagon and covered him with a tarp, he jumped aboard. The other man clambered up beside him and slapped the reins on the horse's back.

Unnoticed, the wagon rolled out of town.

ooooo-OOO-ooooo

Erle Dunbar dropped the empty lunch pail onto the kitchen table with a loud clatter. "I swear that boy's head is in the clouds, Maggie," he grumbled. "He left his pail in the office — again."

Maggie placed a hot tray of freshly baked biscuits on the tabletop. "You'd best have a word with him... _when_ he gets home."

"He's not home yet? Where the blazes has that boy got to now? Danny took over from me more than an hour ago." The sheriff had detoured home via Doc Withinshaw's place to see if he had discovered whether anything else had been stolen in the robbery.

"Maybe he stopped by the store to see Han. You know how excited he gets when Danny takes him shooting."

Erle sighed. "Yeah, a little too excited for my liking but, Danny thinks he might be hankerin' after being a lawman when he gets older, so I guess it's okay." He glanced at the clock on the dresser then ambled over to the stove to move a pan of water off the heat. "Guess I'll go wash up before those two get in and take all the hot water."

Half an hour later the door opened once more. Erle looked up from his newspaper and Maggie turned from setting the four places at the table to see Han enter the cosy kitchen. "Sorry I'm late. Mister Todd kept on talkin' about ordering some new kinda crackers and I couldn't get away. Is there any hot water left? I'll wash up real quick. Wouldn't wanna miss a single second of your delicious supper, Maggie," he said, flashing a captivating grin. Maggie rolled her eyes but couldn't help but smile back.

"What have you done with that cousin of yours?" asked Erle.

"What do you mean?" Han grabbed a cloth with which to hold the hot pan.

"Didn't he stop at the store on his way home?"

"No, sir. He stopped by after school but I ain't seen him since."

Maggie's smile faded but she tried not to sound worried. "Oh, he's probably just found a worm that looks too interesting to ignore. But, you know Jed, that stomach of his is always empty. He'll be along soon, I'm sure."

Sheriff Dunbar and Han glanced at each other, concern on their faces. It wasn't like Jed to be late for supper.

"It'll be dark soon. Jed don't like the dark, 'specially on his own. Bein' locked in the cellar all those times back at the Home made him kinda fearful," said Han as he headed toward the door. "If you don't mind keeping my supper warm, Maggie, I'll go look for him. He can't be far."

Erle grabbed his hat and gun belt. "I'll go with you."

Hannibal and Erle stood in the middle of the yard, hands on hips.

"Let's start here," said Erle. "I'll look in the barn, you take the henhouse and the paddock. Then we'll work our way into town."

Han sped off in the direction of the henhouse, yelling his cousin's name. Five minutes later they rendezvoused by the pump, both shaking their heads.

Carrying a half-full oil lantern from the barn Erle led the way and they proceeded slowly up the main street asking anyone still abroad if they had seen Jed. By the time they reached the Pioneer Inn and Saloon nightfall was rapidly approaching. The lamps either side of the hotel doorway had already been lit and a dull glow spilled from the swing doors of the saloon onto the darkening street. A little further on, they could make out Danny placing the glass globe over a lighted wick outside the sheriff's office.

Erle stopped by the closed mercantile to strike a match and light his lantern. "I'll take the left hand side of the street," he said to Han, "You take the right. Go down one alley, round the back of the building and back up the next one. If we work a pattern like that on both sides we've got most of the main street covered." He held out the glowing lamp but the youth, knowing his eyes were probably better than the older man's, waved it away before jogging down the first narrow passage.

By the time he approached the rear of the sheriff's office Han was beginning to feel a disturbing sense of dread. Jed had never disappeared before — well not lately anyway, and not to anywhere that Han didn't know about. Sure, he had pulled plenty of disappearing acts when chores needed to be done on the Curry family's farm but since leaving the School for Waywards he had stuck to his older cousin like glue.

Rounding the corner of the building Han's keen eyesight picked out an object laying on the ground. He ran toward it, skidding to a halt beside a wide-brimmed, felt hat. Jed's hat.

"You'd better not be playin' games..." he muttered through clenched teeth. "'Cause if you are I'll be getting in line right behind the Sheriff to give you a good whuppin'." He bent to pick up the hat. "Jed!" he shouted, "Are you hiding? C'mon out now, it ain't funny no more. Jed!"

When there was still no sign of his cousin he hurried into the sheriff's office. Erle was already there briefing Danny on Jed's disappearance and where they had searched so far.

"Found this." Han tossed the dusty brown hat onto the desk. "It was in back of the alley."

"Do you think he could have gone out to where you were shooting?" the sheriff asked Danny.

"To Oak Creek? Naw, it'll be pitch black out there and 'sides, he don't have a gun."

"I'd like to go look, anyway." Han tried to keep the desperation from his voice as he looked from one man to the other. "I know it's probably a long shot but right now I can't think where else he could be."

Erle sucked his teeth as he formulated another strategy. "Okay, Han. You go. I'll stay here and ask around some more. Danny, can he take your horse?"

"Sure. He's over at the livery. You know which one, don'tcha?"

Han ran off toward the stables.

Sheriff Dunbar sighed as he and his deputy's eyes met. "I have to say Danny, I don't like this, don't like it one bit. I didn't take the boy for a runaway, not now anyways, and I don't like to think of him lying hurt somewhere and not able to get home. Maggie's gonna be beside herself with worry."

It was a very dejected pair who finally walked through the kitchen door just before midnight. Han slumped into a seat at the table while Earl opened a cupboard and pulled out a bottle of whiskey. Without a word, Maggie poured them both a cup of coffee.

"Here," Erle said, gesturing with the bottle toward Han. "I think you could do with a shot of this in that coffee, I know I could. As long as you don't go making a habit of it," he added, just in case the boy though it was an invitation to start visiting the saloon. Han held out his cup then took a sip of the fortified brew.

"Was there no sign of him, no sign at all?" Maggie asked, her eyes brimming with tears. Han kept his eyes fixed on the tabletop and shook his head.

"Only his hat, nothing more," confirmed Erle. "We looked everywhere we could, Maggie. We'll start again at daybreak. He has to be in Serenity. Where else could he be?"

ooooo-OOO-ooooo

Darkness surrounded him. He couldn't move his arms or his legs and he was a little dizzy. The surface he was laying on felt like it was moving.

As Jedediah Curry finally began to come to his senses he realized his eyes must be closed, so he forced them open. It was still dark. Then his heart began to race as he found that his arms were bound behind him and his ankles were shackled and attached to something. With barely contained panic he struggled to free his hands but the coarse rope burned into his skin with every movement. There was a strange smell in his nostrils and he made himself lay still for a moment, panting, sure that he was going to be sick.

Jed had no idea where he was. All he knew was that it was an enclosed space in the dark and he didn't like it. Once the nausea had subsided he turned over. Facing the opposite direction he could just make out a line of pale silver about level with his eye line and which he surmised was coming from underneath a door. Then he got it, the floor was moving because he was in some sort of wagon and he must have been here for some time because that was moonlight he could see.

"Han," he croaked through his parched throat. "Where are we? Han! Han, are you here?"

When no answer was forthcoming he assumed he was alone, took a deep breath and yelled, "Hey! Let me outta here!"

Nobody came.

The wagon kept on rolling.

He yelled again but all he succeeded in doing was bring on a fit of dry coughing.

Bending his legs Jed wriggled himself upright and sat, swaying slightly with the motion of the wagon. Shuffling around a little more he found a corner and wedged himself there, wondering where he was and how much trouble he was in, both here and at home. Han would likely yell at him for missing supper. The sheriff might even see fit to take a switch to him but one thing was certain, Miz Dunbar would have that awful disappointed look in her eyes. He would rather suffer two whuppins than see that look.

As he thought about home, Jed hung his head putting every effort into fighting off threatening tears. He could do it. He would show Han just how tough he could be. Eventually, the rocking of the wagon together with the after-effects of the drug lulled the youngster to sleep.

The loud rasp of a bolt being drawn back woke Jed with a start. This was followed by a shaft of bright daylight which made him quickly close his eyes again.

"Looks like he's awake," said a gruff voice.

Jed squinted at the silhouette in the doorway, but couldn't make out who it belonged to. Then another figure appeared; this one wore a derby.

"So he is. Hand me that canteen, Trip. I'm thinkin' he'll have quite a thirst on him by now." Jed thought he had heard that voice before but he couldn't place where.

The man with the derby pulled some steps down from inside the door and climbed up into the wagon. He knelt down and put a canteen to the boy's lips. Jed turned his face away.

"Ah, now boy. You need to take some water. We won't be stopping again for some time."

Jed glanced sideways at the man; he was really thirsty but didn't trust him.

The man chuckled. "You think it's poisoned, don't you? Well, I'm not goin' to poison you or drug you again. I'm not in the habit of wasting good chloroform when I don't have to. Here, take the water." He pushed the opening of the canteen against Jed's tight lips, spilling some water down his chin. At the feel of the fresh cool water Jed was struck by just how thirsty he was and quickly opened his mouth to take a few gulps.

"There now. Slowly now, don't want you choking yourself."

"Where am I?" Jed gasped before taking a few more sips.

"A long way from where you was yesterday, but not as far as you'll be tomorrow."

Jed frowned. "Who are you, mister?"

"My name's Pádraig Flanagan. Some people know me as Fox. What's your name?"

"Jedediah Curry."

"So, Jedediah, are you hungry?"

Jed didn't want to admit it, but he was. He gave a slight nod.

"Ah, well, that's a shame now, 'cause we'll not be feeding you for a little while," said Fox, genially. "See, you've put on a few pounds since I last saw you what with all that home cookin' the sheriff's wife has been doing, and that won't do. Won't do at all. Got to get you back to skinny again." Placing the cap back on the canteen Fox leaped down from the wagon and pushed the steps back inside.

"Hey, wait a minute!" Jed called, but the door was slammed shut and the bolt drawn across. He was back in darkness again. Who was this man Flanagan and what had he meant when he said he wasn't going to feed him? Was he planning on starving him to death? Alone in the dark, hungry and still a little thirsty, Jed felt really scared. Right now, he didn't care what Han would say and allowed the tears to roll down his cheeks.

ooooo-OOO-ooooo

Hannibal Heyes dragged himself into the mercantile at six o'clock the following morning not having slept a wink all night. News travelled fast in a small burg like Serenity and, by the time he arrived at the store, Mister Todd was already aware that his young assistant's cousin was missing. Under the circumstances Todd was impressed, and somewhat surprised, that Han had turned up for work and wasted no time in telling him to go and join in the search.

There had been a good turnout of volunteers and by late afternoon all the outlying farms and ranches had been thoroughly searched. Jed was still nowhere to be found.

The next day Deputy Whitman took the road south to Woodsdale to make some enquiries and send telegraphs to neighbouring towns but, on his return, Han and the Dunbars only needed to take one look at his face to know that nobody there had seen the boy either.

Seventy-two hours after Jed's disappearance Han felt exhausted both physically and emotionally and Maggie and Erle watched with concern as he once again left most of his supper on the plate. Eventually he excused himself from their company and, still fully clothed, went to lay down on his bed.

It was a little after ten p.m. when shading the light from her candle with her hand Maggie cracked open the door to Han's room to check that he was alright. She could just about make out his curled up form on the bed facing away from her so she quietly closed the door again. The minute she was gone Han's brown eyes sprang open.

The moon rose, casting its silvery light through the small window and onto Han's bed where he lay still and silent watching the shining orb's passage across the night sky and trying to estimate how long he would have to wait before Maggie and Erle were sound asleep.

When eventually he judged that enough time had passed he got up and carefully eased the loose baseboard away from the wall to access the few precious dollars he had managed to save. Then he opened Jed's tin. Rifling through the jumble he soon found what he was looking for — a pencil stub. He also pocketed his makeshift lock picks and the two hair pins.

The last thing Han wanted to do was hurt the Dunbars but he knew he couldn't stay without Jed either. They had been through so much together he would never be able to live with himself if he didn't try to find him. Tearing a blank flyleaf from one of his books Han sat back down on his bed and tapped the end of the pencil against his chin while he contemplated what to write.

A little later, the bed creaked in protest as Han stood on it and slowly opened the small window as far as it would go. He then reached out dropping his boots and jacket to the ground, slid his lithe form through the opening and lowered himself down into the yard, his sock-clad feet making no sound. Pausing briefly to pick up his belongings Han straightened his hat and gazed back through the bedroom window, a look of desolation in his eyes.

There had been many times when he had almost given up hope of finding a home again; somewhere where he and Jed could put down roots and make a decent life for themselves; somewhere they would have a future. This had been it — right here in a little backwater called Serenity — but now he had to leave. Without another backward glance he trotted off toward the paddock.

Having planned to approach the town by a roundabout route so that he could stay off the main street as much as possible he eventually came to a little-used path which brought him to exactly where he wanted to be, the rear of Todd's Mercantile.

Using his lock picks in exactly the same way as he had done before, Han let himself in and closed the door behind him. There was no light in the back room but he knew his way around it pretty well and therefore could easily make his way to the connecting door and into main part of the store. Here the large front windows ensured that there was at least a little light to see by and, grabbing the small sack from behind a crate where he had stashed it earlier that day he hastily stuffed a number of provisions into it. He then took one of the hairpins from his pocket and undid the simple lock to a narrow drawer underneath the counter. Metal glinted in the moonlight. Han picked out a small, flat-bladed knife from the selection in the drawer and slid it into a slot he had carefully fashioned into the lining of his boot.

Finally he reached into his shirt pocket, pulled out two of his hard-earned dollars and placed them on the counter by the open drawer. The last thing he wanted to do was steal from Mister Todd who, despite his fully justified reservations, had taken a chance and employed him.

Making sure to lock the rear door properly as he left Han slung the sack over one shoulder and, at a steady jog, headed north.


	6. Chapter 6

Summer was already a long way through its slow fade into fall. Daylight hours were getting noticeably shorter and that meant that the carnival season was over for another year. Begrudgingly, Fox Flanagan once again led his three-strong wagon train across the state line into Missouri to take up residence in the abandoned farm where, for the past three years, his troupe had made their winter home.

Fox hated the winter. It wasn't the cold weather so much as the fact that he was not able to travel freely from town to town and had little chance of making any money while still feeding the same number of hungry mouths. This year however, he did anticipate pulling in a number of interested locals to the makeshift boxing ring in the barn during the fall and early spring, but this really depended on whether or not he could get his new acquisition to co-operate.

Jedediah Curry was feisty, an attribute Fox usually encouraged, but he was also proving troublesome. Most of the time he had been kept locked up in the carnival wagon but, when he had allowed the boy out to do his business and get some fresh air, once the shackles were off his ankles the boy had tried his best to run off, even with his hands still tied and without boots on his feet. Several days with very little food had weakened him some but Fox sensed that it might take a bit more than a few hunger pangs to persuade him that it was in his best interests to become one of his fighters.

Jed lay on the hard floor of the wagon and stared up at a roof he couldn't see. Despite now having access to a limited amount of water he was still thirsty and hungry — more hungry than he had ever been in his life and that was saying something. Having been kept in almost constant darkness he had lost all track of time. It seemed to him that it was quite a while since the man they called Trip had taken the rope from around his sore and bloodied wrists only to secure them in front of him with a heavy set of shackles. Not having been tied up before Jed had not been prepared for the overwhelming sensation of pins and needles which burned its way down his arms, making him cry out in pain. It was then that he had started to contemplate how much longer he could stay this way without dying.

Having taken no notice when the rumble of the wheels ceased Jed slowly became aware of a number of voices outside. Somebody was shouting orders. _They must be making camp again_ , he surmised before wondering if he would get more than the usual hard tack for his supper tonight. Part of him was glad that he didn't have to do anything other than lay or sit, he was starting to feel weak from lack of food.

The familiar scraping of the long iron bolt sounded and the door opened.

"On yer feet," ordered Trip as he jumped up inside the wagon. "C'mon, kid, I ain't got all day."

Jed struggled to his feet and stood, swaying slightly. Trip unlocked the leg irons on his ankles, grabbed a fistful of Jed's shirt at the shoulder and hauled him down to the ground to a waiting Fox Flanagan.

"Where d' ya want him, boss?"

"Usual place."

The sun had already set but, with what little remained of the fading light, Jed did his best to look about him as he stumbled alongside Trip in his bare feet. He could gain no clue as to where he was because there didn't seem to be anything, other than grassland, as far as they eye could see. A farmhouse together with a small barn and corral stood in one corner of the windswept yard that he was being pulled across, but they were headed to a much larger barn next to an even bigger corral.

Several youths were busily unloading the other two wagons. At first glance the majority of them appeared to Jed to be not much older than Han.

Trip slid the barn door open and steered Jed through the gap. He was then pushed into a stall where he fell to the ground. Jed watched as once again a leg iron was placed on one of his ankles and padlocked. He waited for another to be attached to the other ankle and felt heartened when this did not happen. Hopefully, he held out his shackled wrists.

"Uh-uh. Won't be takin' those off ya 'til the boss says so."

"Where are we?"

"Home," replied Trip as he grabbed a large armful of straw and dumped it in a corner of the stall. He then walked back out into the yard, sliding the door closed behind him.

Dismally, Jed crawled onto the fresh straw and curled up into a ball.

ooooo-OOO-ooooo

Carrying a lighted lantern Fox Flanagan let himself into the barn by way of a small side door. He was followed by two boys. One was carrying two folded blankets, balancing a bowl covered by a plate and a tin cup on top of the pile. The other had a bucket in each hand, one full and one empty. They placed everything on the floor just outside Jed's stall and left.

Fox Flanagan hung the lantern on a hook and leant against a post chewing thoughtfully on a piece of straw.

Jed ignored him.

"Come now, Jedediah. We've got some talking to do, you and me."

Jed's knees remained curled into his chest.

"Alright, we don't have do any talking just yet. How about eating then? You can't tell me you ain't hungry."

Jed's treacherous stomach gave a loud growl. Fox grinned to himself as he picked up the bowl and took the plate off the top thereby releasing the aroma of corned beef hash. Jed immediately smelled the hot food and, as much as he didn't want to, his hunger was so great that he sat up his eyes eagerly focussed on the bowl in Fox Flanagan's hand.

"Take it."

With a rattle of chains Jed jumped to his feet, grabbed the offered bowl with one hand and hurriedly scooped the warm food into his mouth with the other. Fox reached into his pocket to produce a spoon but he was too slow, the food had already disappeared.

Jed sat down again on the straw a little out of breath and proceeded to wipe every last morsel from the bowl with his fingers and tongue.

"See, we don't mean to starve you, Jedediah. You just needed to lose those pounds you'd gained. You'll be fed from now on — provided you co-operate, that is."

Jed abruptly stopped licking the grease off his dirty fingers. What exactly did the man mean by co-operate? What did he want him to do? His blue eyes widened as he suddenly recalled stories he had heard back at the School for Waywards; the kind only whispered in the dormitory in the dead of night. Stories pertaining to what certain men liked to do with young boys. Jed was not prepared to let that happen to him.

Fox Flanagan turned over the empty bucket and sat down on it. He dipped the tin cup into the water in the other bucket and held it out at arm's length. Fearfully, Jed shook his head and shuffled backwards, squeezing himself into the corner as far as he could go.

"No need to be afraid, boy," smiled Fox.

"I won't do it!"

"You don't know what I'm going say, yet," said Fox, a little taken aback at the vehement response.

"I won't do it. Don't you try to make me. I'll... I'll... die first."

"Die? Why would you—? Ohhh..." The answer came to Fox and he frowned. "I know what you're thinking, kid, and nothing of that sort is going to happen to you here. In fact, if anybody should lay a hand on you in that way they'll be the ones doing the dying. I'll make sure of it."

The man had a way about him that made Jed want to trust him. Then, as Fox gave him a re-assuring smile he realized what it was. It was the man's smile; it was full and engaging and it reminded him of Han. He wondered what his cousin thought of him right now. Surely he would know that he hadn't just run away. Han was clever, he'd figure it out. If only he was here he would find a way to get them out of this. He could pick the locks on these shackles for a start.

"So, can we talk now?"

A small nod.

"Good." Fox Flanagan stood up and beckoned. "Come over here."

Jed reluctantly got to his feet and slowly sidled over to the man. Fox pointed toward the large dark space in the barn. "Look over there. See that?" Not able to see anything obvious Jed shook his head.

Stepping out of the stall Fox unhooked the lantern and walked a few paces into the middle of the barn.

"Look at the ground here." Fox lowered the lantern and pointed as he walked along a line of sand which marked out a large square on the ground. "Do you know what this is used for?"

Jed shook his head.

"It's a boxing ring — without the ropes. Do you know what boxing is, Jedediah?"

Jed could recall a time when, as they passed through a small town, he and Han had stumbled upon a carnival and Han had explained to him why the two men in a roped off square (which Jed found out later was strangely called a ring**) were fighting.

"Men fighting," Jed murmured.

"That's right." Fox was pleased to have the boy engage at last. "Now, what I do Jedediah, is teach young men to fight. I teach them how to throw punches and how to avoid getting hit. And, if they get good at it, they win. And when they win, they earn their keep along with a few dollars for themselves by way of a bonus. It's simple really."

"What if they lose?"

Like the accomplished boxer he was Fox neatly side-stepped the question. "I saw you throw that punch when the deputy had hold of you. It was beautiful. Near folded that poor fella in half. Pity you didn't get the second one away, I'd like to have seen how hard you could hit his jaw. That's what I call potential. And so, I'd like to teach you how to box. You've got a quick right hand."

Jed looked dubiously at his hands. He knew his right hand was fast only he didn't want to use it for fist-fighting, he wanted to use it to draw a gun.

Following his gaze Fox Flanagan walked back to the stall. He took a small bunch of keys out of his pocket and dangled them in front of Jed.

"Now, I'll not be taking this leg iron off until we reach an understanding and I can trust you not to run — not that there's anywhere to run to out here. I will, however, take those shackles off your wrists. If you make any trouble they will go right back on. Understand?"

Jed nodded. He didn't know what else to do.

ooooo-OOO-ooooo

Jed woke with a start just after dawn as the sun's rays began to filter through the wind eyes, large slatted vents high up in the barn walls. Now that his hands were free and he had two blankets and a bed of straw he had spent a fairly comfortable night, his first good sleep in a long time.

Despite Fox Flanagan's promise that he would be fed from now on, breakfast was hardly substantial, only amounting to a biscuit and a cup of hot water. Jed still felt a little weak and sleepy and he was just starting to doze off again when one of the large barn doors began to rumble, sliding back with a rush of air and bright daylight. Fox Flanagan strode in with Trip, ahead of six of the youths Jed had seen helping to unload the wagon yesterday.

"Mornin', Jedediah," said Fox amiably as he strolled over to the stall. "My boys here are going to give you a little demonstration of what they do. They don't have many competitive bouts over the winter but we do get a few spectators come and wager some money if the snow's not too deep. Whatever happens, these boys do have to hone their skills and keep in shape just the same and that's what you'll be doing too."

When Jed just stared at him from over the edge of his blankets Fox's pleasant demeanour grew dark and he roughly pulled the blankets from Jed and flung them to one side.

"On your feet, boy," he ordered. "You're gonna follow the same rules as everyone else and that means when I tell you to do something, you do it _and quick_ , understand?"

At the man's change in tone Jed hastened to his feet and stood exactly where Fox indicated, his eyes obediently following the man's gaze over to the makeshift boxing ring.

Four of the youths stood, each one marking a corner, and Jed watched as the remaining two stripped off their shirts and henleys in the cool morning air, tied different coloured sashes around their waists, and stepped into the ring.

"I want a good fight, now," said Fox, his smile returning. Let's show this young 'un here what us ringsters are all about."

Jed figured he had been right, neither of the boys who now raised their balled fists in front of them were any older than Han. He contemplated the other four, deciding that two of them were probably the same age as him although he knew he looked younger.

The fighters took small steps and danced around each other for a few seconds until the one with the red sash threw a tentative punch with his right. The wearer of the blue sash dodged neatly out of the way but seconds later red aimed another, quicker this time with his left, and connected with the other one's face. Jed watched, a little in awe, as that was followed by one from his right hand and he expected blue to hit the dirt. Instead, with two large red marks spreading along his cheeks, the wearer of the blue sash merely bounced backwards a little to get out of range.

The fight went on in a similar vein for a few more minutes until, with the red sash wearer landing more effective punches than the other, one last right hook put the blue sash on his back.

"Alright, that'll do," said Fox, ambling over to the ring. Red sash walked away to the bucket he had carried in and splashed his face liberally with water. Fox nudged the stunned boy on the ground with his foot. "Up. Get up." he growled, giving him a hard stare as he got to his feet. "What the hell was that, Billy?" he asked. "You forget how to block or something?"

Appearing embarrassed, the boy looked at the floor. "Sorry, Mister Flanagan," he mumbled. "Jack threw a real good punch right off. Musta unsettled me some."

Steering Billy away from the ring by his elbow Fox leaned in a little closer and murmured something in his ear. Jed looked on open-mouthed as Fox then landed a vicious jab in the boy's solar plexus. Billy doubled over retching and struggling for air.

As Billy's knees hit the floor Fox jerked the blue sash from around his waist and turned back to the ring. "Who's up next?" he asked, cheerfully.

ooooo-OOO-ooooo

Although he was still very hungry Jed sat pushing his small supper around his bowl while he thought about what had taken place in the barn that morning.

He had to admit he had enjoyed most of it, except for the bit when that boy got punched by Mister Flanagan. He knew the boy had lost his bout but, now he thought about it, two of the other boys had also lost and Mister Flanagan was fine with them.

It had been reassuring, however, to see that all the boys looked well-fed and they were certainly fit. Despite this Jed still felt confident that, even in his present condition, he could land a punch good enough to bring at least two of them down. The only problem was, _did he really want to?_ Fighting was a thing he had done in the past when somebody had made him mad enough but, for some reason, all these boys appeared keen to fight without appearing to be even a little bit mad.

Taking part in a little physical training with the others would not be a bad thing. He could do with a few muscles. It would put a stop to Han teasing him about being just another scrawny kid.

Whether he decided to fight or not, he knew he was stuck here for a while. Wherever 'here' was. If he could manage to sit tight over the winter he could then take off as soon as the good weather arrived. Then, once he had found out exactly where he was, he could hitch rides on a few wagons back toward Serenity, and home.

Jed sighed and was soon lost in thought about Han and Maggie, as well as practicing his fast draw, that he failed to hear the sound of the side door opening. A few seconds later Billy appeared around the side of the stall.

"I come to get your bowl."

Seeing the boy's red and slightly purple-tinged face Jed whistled softly. "He sure hit ya hard, didn't he?"

"Mister Flanagan always hits hard."

"I don't mean him, I mean Jack."

"Him too," Billy confirmed, his hand touching his sore face.

"Does Jack win lots of fights?" asked Jed, before quickly finishing his supper.

"I only come for your bowl," Billy said, then looked carefully over his shoulder. "I ain't s'posed to talk to ya."

"Why not?"

"Dunno. Just ain't."

Jed handed over his bowl. "Why did Mister Flanagan hit ya?"

Billy shrugged.

"Was is 'cause ya lost?"

"I guess."

Puzzled, Jed asked, "But I thought it was only practice, like a pretend fight?"

When Billy turned to go, Jed persisted. "Does he _always_ hit ya like that if ya lose?"

"Gotta go."

Jed was left staring at an empty space.


	7. Chapter 7

The roughly painted signpost read Silktree to the left and Hortonburg to the right. Hannibal Heyes pursed his lips as he gave this due consideration then he pulled a coin from his pocket, balanced it on his thumb and watched as the quarter reflected the moonlight as it spun in the air. Catching it deftly he slapped it on the back of his hand, shrugged and followed the road.

By dawn Han was feeling the effects of walking too many miles in his work boots. Spying a stand of cottonwoods he limped off the road and sat among the roots to pull off the offending footwear and examine the large blisters which had been forming for the past two days on the ball of each foot. Han grimaced. Even though he had taken time to rest and grab a few hours sleep here and there, it had felt as if he had walked non-stop. He had no idea how far he had come or how far he had yet to walk, all he did know was that from now on it would be painful. He sat by the trees for a little longer watching the sun rise while he chewed on a strip of jerky. Then, having carefully replaced his socks and boots, he took a deep breath, heaved himself to his feet and limped off down the road.

Later that day Han didn't even need to look at his feet to know that his blisters had now burst and he was just about to stop and change his old socks for the new pair he had picked up at the mercantile when he heard the distant rumble of wheels on the road behind him. Turning, he pushed his hat to the back of his head and watched as a wagon approached. It was large, painted a bilious green and pulled sedately by a pair of well-matched grey horses. As it got closer he could make out that the sides were covered with pictures and framed with an elaborate gold script.

Han stepped backward to let the vehicle pass, missed his footing on a loose rock and finding it difficult to regain his balance on his sore feet, landed unceremoniously on his backside in the dirt at the side of the road. The wagon came to a stop and an amused face peered around the ornately carved side of the driver's cab.

"Are you alright, young man?" enquired a middle-aged man of almost elf-like appearance with small, sharp, lively features and shining black eyes. "You seem to have taken quite a tumble there on our account."

"I'm okay," Han brushed himself down as he got gingerly to his feet, wincing as he put pressure on his blisters.

"You don't look okay. Been on the road a long time, have you?"

"Two or three days, I think."

"You _think_?!"

Han squinted up at the driver. Against the bright sunlight he could just make out that the man was clad in a gaudy plaid suit of mustard yellow and green, and on his head was a shiny, black top hat.

"Ain't been sleeping a lot. Walking during the night too."

"You must be in one sure-fired hurry to be somewhere!" The man looked with interest at the way Han shifted his feet. "You want to ride up here a spell?"

"Wouldn't say 'no', mister."

"Then you have my permission to come aboard," the man invited, cheerily.

Han quickly hobbled around the wagon. Pulling himself up next to the driver he tucked his coat and sack underneath the bench.

"Josiah Tweedie, purveyor of Tweedie's Total Tonic at your service," said the man, raising his hat with a flourish.

Han tipped his own brim in return. "Pleased to meet you, sir. I'm Hannibal Heyes."

Suddenly, a narrow doorway opened behind them and a girl's face appeared, her features so similar to those of Josiah Tweedie that there was no mistaking that the two were related. The similarity did not extend to their taste in clothes however, she being dressed more sedately in a pale grey skirt and white blouse. Han however failed to notice any of this as his eyes were far too busy taking in her pretty pink rosebud lips and the dark brown, almost black, hair which cascaded in an abundance of tight curls about her shoulders.

"I thought we must have stopped for a reason, Papa." She looked straight at Han who quickly realized he was staring and glanced away.

"And a very good reason it is too, darling child, for this young man is the owner of the very impressive moniker of Hannibal. Hannibal Heyes, may I present my daughter, Isabella."

"Miss," said Han with a nod, tipping his hat again.

"Pleased to meet you, Hannibal. Call me Bella, everyone else does," she smiled warmly then added with a frown, "Except Papa."

Han returned the smile. "And everyone calls me Han."

"Papa probably won't — even though he doesn't like people calling him Josiah." Bella clambered over the back of the bench seating herself between them.

"Have I your permission to proceed, m' lady?" asked Josiah Tweedie with mock reverence.

Bella graciously inclined her head. "You do. Onward, kind sir."

ooooo-OOO-ooooo

Hannibal Heyes' sore feet were pretty much forgotten as he listened to the entertaining banter between father and daughter but, the lack of a good night's sleep together with the warmth of the late summer sunshine took its toll and his head began to loll against the side of the wagon. It wasn't until the sun was starting to dip towards the horizon and Josiah Tweedie had pulled the wagon off the road bringing it to a halt on the shady bank of a small creek that he woke with a start. Jumping down to help unhitch the horses he was suddenly reminded of the discomfort and couldn't stop himself from giving a loud "OW!" as his feet hit the ground.

"Are you alright?" asked Bella as she jumped down after him.

Embarrassed, Han tried to stand normally. "It's nothing."

While their new travelling companion tended to the horses, the Tweedies worked in well-practiced concert and had camp set up in no time at all. Grateful that his help wasn't required further Han seized the opportunity to sit down once again and, removing his boots and socks, dipped his throbbing feet in the cool water of the creek. He also managed to position himself in such a way so that he could observe Bella as she watched over the cook pot on the fire without making his interest too obvious.

She was by far the prettiest girl Han had ever seen; not that he had seen many apart from Jed's two sisters and the few girls who also attended the small school on the outskirts of Lawrence, Kansas. The School for Waywards had been for boys only and during his few months in Serenity nobody had caught his eye.

Bella leaned forward to stir the contents of the pot pushing her copious black hair back from her face as she did so. Han felt an uninvited stirring and shifted uncomfortably.

Hearing footsteps, and in a vain attempt to appear as if he was looking at something other than Bella, Han quickly pulled one of his feet out of the water and bent forward to look at the damage.

"See anything interesting?"

"Just a blister."

"Thought so. Here." Josiah Tweedie sat down beside him and produced a bottle of iodine, a large wad of cotton and a roll of bandage from his jacket pocket. "Dry that foot off and put some of the iodine on it, then I'll help you bandage it up."

"Thank you, sir."

"You're welcome. And Hannibal, my friends call me JT. You should too."

"I don't much like being called Hannibal."

"Nonsense. Hannibal is too wonderful a name to let it go to waste with something as nondescript as 'Han'. In this life you should be unique...one of a kind. Special even. I have a inkling that you have untapped talents, my boy."

Han's smile was cut short as he applied a dab of the iodine to his raw exposed flesh. He sucked in a sharp breath and, gritting his teeth, thumped his head back against the tree trunk a couple of times.

"Did I not mention it will sting like the devil? Let me get a bandage on it; you must try and keep it clean. Don't want you getting an infection." Han held up his foot and JT wrapped the clean bandage around it several times before tying it neatly in place.

Having done the same with his other foot which throbbed with double the discomfort due to having two large blisters on it, Han leaned back against the tree trying to catch his breath. He was in the process of putting on his clean socks when Bella approached carrying two tin cups full of coffee.

"How are your feet now?" she asked.

"I'll be able to tell you when the iodine's stopping stinging," he replied, his teeth clenched in a humourless smile.

"Well maybe some supper will help. We've got rabbit stew."

Before long all three sat around the campfire wiping the gravy off their plates with biscuits. Han placed his plate on the ground with a sigh. "That sure was good, Bella. Thank you. I haven't had a proper meal since I left Serenity."

"Is that where you come from, Hannibal?" asked JT. He had been waiting for the boy to speak about himself. Experience had taught him that asking questions didn't often get him very far unless a small piece of information had been volunteered in the first place.

"No si—...uh, JT. I've just been living there a while is all."

"I've heard it's a quiet little place. Didn't you like it?"

"It was fine but I had to leave to look for Jed. He's my cousin. He went missing about a week ago. The folks there they searched high and low for him but he's just up and disappeared. I figured they wouldn't keep lookin' for ever so it'd have to be me who went to find him."

"You're close then, you and this cousin of yours?"

"Yeah, Jed and me we're like brothers. We grew up together." Han didn't want to go into detail about the raid on the farms that had killed their families so he said no more.

"Have you any idea where he might have headed?"

Han stared into the fire and shook his head.

JT quickly sensed the boy's reluctance to divulge any further information for the moment so he said, "Hmm. Well Hannibal, Isabella and I are on our way to Hortonburg and beyond until the snows hit. Then we will hole up for the winter. We are always agreeable to new company so you are very welcome to come along with us for as long as you wish."

Bella smiled encouragingly at Han who looked dubiously from father to daughter.

"Really? You want me to come with you?" Riding from town to town in search of Jed would sure beat walking.

"Sure, why not?" There was something about this young man that JT couldn't quite put his finger on but he had a feeling that there was more to him than met the eye.

Han felt in his shirt pocket where he kept his meagre funds. "I can't pay much toward my keep, I've only got a few dollars and..."

JT waved away the gesture. "We won't take your money, Hannibal."

"Well, maybe I could do something to earn my keep. I could look after the horses or help with whatever it is you do," Han said eagerly.

"Whatever it is we do?!" exclaimed JT imperiously. "Young man, we are the sole purveyors of a monumental medical breakthrough. Tweedie's Total Tonic is a theriac, a panacea, nay... the veritable elixir of life itself!"

Amused, Han smiled quietly to himself. It was just as he had expected — JT was a salesman who travelled from town to town selling oils or tonics. He and Jed had seen one or two already during their few months on the road.

"Would you be so kind as to go fetch a bottle, Isabella? It will ease young Hannibal's affliction without question."

Bella was on her feet in a flash and returned with a bottle filled with a sludge-brown liquid and sporting a label in the same green and gold as the wagon.

JT tossed the dregs of his coffee aside and poured a carefully measured dose into his cup. He held it out to Han who sniffed it cautiously, pulling his head back sharply at the strong but indefinable smell.

"Go on, Hannibal," urged JT as Han looked into the cup and frowned. "Drink it down. All of it."

Not wishing to offend his kind host Han took the cup, drew in a deep breath and tossed back the contents. The burn to the back of his throat was a little like he had felt from the whiskey Erle had put in his coffee a few nights ago, except much harsher, resulting in a bout of coughing. Bella was once more on her feet and slapping him on the back.

Han looked up at her pretty face through streaming eyes.

"Are you alright?" she asked as the coughing gradually subsided.

"Yes, thank you," croaked Han, half due to the tonic and the other half as a result of Bella's hand still gently rubbing his back.

JT clapped his hands. "Good. We'll all have a good night's sleep and hopefully make Hortonburg by noon tomorrow. I hope you don't mind sleeping under the wagon, Hannibal; there's only room for two of us inside. Isabella, let's make this young man comfortable with a tarp and some warm blankets."

ooooo-OOO-ooooo

Hannibal Heyes woke to the sound and smell of frying bacon. He turned slowly to see Bella smiling at him from beside the campfire.

"Good morning, sleepy head."

Han half covered his face with the blanket in order to hide his reddening cheeks and mumbled, "Mornin'." A few seconds later JT jumped down from the back of the wagon and clapped his hands, sharply.

"Come on, Hannibal, rise and shine. We have to be on the road soon if we're going to catch the noon crowd in Hortonburg and put a good distance between us and them before dark."

With a barely audible groan Han crawled out from underneath the wagon, rolled his blankets up in the tarp, then hobbled off into the trees. Upon his return he crouched down and splashed his face with water from the creek, running his hands through his collar-length, bed-ruffled hair before flattening it down with his hat.

By the time he sat down at the camp fire JT and Bella were already eating. "That's all yours, young man," said JT, indicating the bacon and griddle cakes which remained in the skillet. Ravenous after a surprisingly good night's sleep on the hard ground Han made short work of his breakfast.

It wasn't until they were packed up and on the road again that Han asked, "Is there any chance we can stop the night in Hortonburg? I'll have plenty of time then to have a good look round and ask if anyone has seen Jed. Maybe even leave some details with the sheriff."

JT and Bella exchanged a glance.

"Oh, I don't think you have any need to go troubling the sheriff, Hannibal. He's a very busy man," said JT. "Anyway, in my experience any popular drinking establishment is the most reliable source of information." Noticing the uncertain look on Han's face at this advice, he continued, "I tell you what we'll do. I'll pull the wagon up at the side of the road a little way outside of town. You can walk in and ask all the questions you want and then, when we set up in the main street, you will be able to see our little show. How about that?"

Han thought carefully for a moment. He didn't want to miss any opportunity to search for Jed and although he still thought that it would be a good idea to speak to the sheriff, he nodded. He was sure he could ask a good number of people if he was quick about it.

By late morning the first traces of civilization started to appear and Josiah Tweedie steered the horses off the road. Han climbed down from the wagon. "Where do you wanna meet up?"

"Tell me...how exactly are you going to miss a wagon like this one?" asked JT with a laugh. "My boy, we never fail to attract a sizeable assemblage. You certainly won't miss us. Just be ready to leave when we are."

"Sure. See ya later."

By the time he reached the centre of the main street Han's blisters were once again starting to throb and he was beginning to wish he had stayed with the wagon. Knowing he didn't have long in town he made the saloon his first stop.

The only saloon Han had ever been into was the Pioneer in Serenity. Unbeknown to Maggie, Erle Dunbar had taken him there to celebrate Mister Todd giving him a job but, even then, he had not been allowed to drink anything stronger than small beer.

This saloon was larger than the Pioneer and, despite it being an hour or so before noon, it was considerably busier and he had to wait a little while before he was able to attract the bartender's attention.

"What can I get yer?" The bartender barely glanced at the young customer.

"I don't want a drink. I—."

"Go bother someone else then," said the man disdainfully, turning away.

Before he thought what he was doing Han reached over the bar to grab the man's arm. "Hold on," he said, urgently.

Taking a good long look at the hand on his arm the bartender raised his eyes to Han. "Yer'd better loosen that grip boy, if'n yer know what's good fer yer."

Han let go with lightning speed. "Sorry, mister. I only want to ask you a few questions."

"Answers are like liquor, they ain't free."

Not having considered that he might have to pay for the information he sought let alone how much it would cost, Han dipped two fingers into his vest pocket and pulled out a silver dollar. "I ain't got much. Will this do?"

The bartender rolled his eyes before pocketing the coin. "Ask away."

"I'm looking for someone. His name's Jedediah Curry, he's thirteen years old and he's got corn-coloured, curly hair and stands about yea-high." Han raised a hand level with his own shoulder. "Have you seen him?"

"Nope. Can't say as I have."

Han's face fell. "Oh. Thanks anyway, mister," he mumbled, turning away and wondering how long he was going to be able to make his few dollars last if this was the price of a 'no' in a saloon.

The bartender regarded the disappointed youth. "Hey, listen!" he shouted, then banged loudly on the bar with the closest beer mug, slopping a good amount of the brew over the side. "Shut yer bazoos and listen!"

A sea of faces turned his way.

"Anyone seen a yeller-haired boy hereabouts, an outsider? This here fella's lost his friend." There followed a general muttering and a shaking of heads before the loud babble of voices recommenced. The bartender looked at Han and shrugged.

Han gave a flat smile. "Thanks mister, 'ppreciate you askin'."

As he stood on the boardwalk outside the saloon Han looked up and down the main street but could see no sign of Tweedie's wagon. His eyes then fell upon the sign for the sheriff's office and, as at this particular time in his life he had no reason to fear walking into a sheriff's office, he chose to ignore JT's advice, crossed the street and politely knocked on the door.

The sheriff was very amenable, listened to his problem and even made some notes from Han's detailed description of his cousin but, in the end Han had a feeling that he was going to have to agree with JT that it was probably a waste of time.

The general store was his next stop followed by the livery stable, the gunsmith and a couple of cafés but nobody had seen Jed. He was once again crossing the street when a strange noise caught his attention and he turned to see the ornate wagon making its way slowly down the main street. Its progress was slow because walking in front of the horses was a figure, who he knew must be Bella, tunelessly blowing a battered military bugle.

Han watched as people emerged from the shops and pushed through the swing doors of the saloon, some to steady their horses amid the noise, others out of curiosity to see what was causing the commotion. Even the sheriff stood in his doorway momentarily before returning to his desk, dismissing the disturbance as just another of those carnival people trailing through his town.

As the wagon came closer Han stepped up onto the boardwalk in order to get a better view and his eyes opened wide in astonishment at the transformation Bella had undergone. The dress she now wore was a deep crimson, cut low over her breasts and high over her knees just skimming the tops of her stockings. She wore red and yellow feathers in her hair which was now piled high on her head and her cheeks and the pretty rosebud lips he so admired were painted red like the women he had glimpsed serving drinks in the saloon.

JT drove the wagon, occasionally raising his shiny black top hat left and right in acknowledgement of the interested townsfolk. Pulling the horses to a halt outside the saloon he jumped down and, with a metal-tipped stick began to unhook a number of clasps along the top and one edge of a single side of the wagon. Bella ceased blowing the horn in order to help him and together they revealed a row of hidden shelves well stocked with bottles of Tweedie's Total Tonic. Having produced two large wooden blocks from inside the wagon JT stepped up onto one so that he could see over the heads of the assembled throng. Bella stood on the other, posing with her hands resting on the ruched fabric over her hips. The people gathered round.

"Ladies and gentlemen!" began JT holding his hands up and waiting for the crowd to quieten. "You are indeed privileged! You are the fortunate ones who will today have the opportunity to take home something quite unique." Bella altered her stance to extend a knee and reveal a lacy stocking top drawing a few wolf-whistles. JT continued, "For I have here one of the wonders of the world shipped all the way from New York City. Yes, indeed. A veritable medical revolution which will transform your lives in ways you could never imagine." He picked up a bottle of the tonic and held it high in the air.

Leaning comfortably against a post Han could not stop the corners of his mouth twitching as he listened to JT's patter but not for one second did his eyes stray from Bella.

"This complex amalgam of multifarious compounds has been painstakingly created and will, I _guarantee_ , relieve you of all those debilitating aches and pains, those miserable burns, tingles and spasms with which you are burdened every day of your lives."

There was a loud muttering from the crowd. "What is that I hear?" asked JT, looking aghast. "Is that an air of dubiety I sense amongst you? Ladies and gentlemen, surely you would not dispute the apodictic curative effects? Why not try it for yourselves?! Come now, at only one single silver dollar a bottle I am virtually giving away this miracle medication." He held a bottle toward a man in the front row.

Bella smiled sweetly at the rough-looking, toothless fellow with a squint who had been eyeing her legs lasciviously.

"Hang it! I'll take one!" he shouted, pushing his hand deep into his pants pocket and waving a dollar in the air.

"Now there's an intelligent fellow. See. _He_ knows a breakthrough in medical science when he sees one," chirped JT as Bella handed over the bottle and took the man's money. "Who's next? Don't be shy now!"

Amid a few more shouts of "Gimme one!" and "Here's my dollar!" some in the crowd surged forward pushing others along with them. While JT placed bottles into the willing hands which held out money, from his vantage point Han's eyes still followed Bella as she stepped down from her box and wove her way slowly through the crowd, encouraging those who looked reluctant to purchase Tweedie's Total Tonic and congratulating those who already held a bottle.

When at last the crowd began to thin Bella caught Han's eye and she tilted her head toward the wagon. JT had finished passing out the last of his bottles and was quickly securing the side of the wagon and stashing away the two boxes.

"Come on, Hannibal, quickly now," he urged, jumping up into the driver's seat. At the very same time as Han hopped up on the opposite side, Bella climbed into the back of the wagon and closed the door. JT slapped the reins and the wagon rolled slowly out of town, leaving the remnants of the crowd milling around in the street.

Once they had travelled about a mile or so out of town JT slapped the reins again and, with a loud "Ha!" pushed the horses into a gallop. Han hung onto the side of the wagon as well as his hat as they bounced along the rough road. He wondered how Bella was faring inside.

They kept up the increased pace for quite some distance and by the time JT slowed the horses back to a walk they were blowing hard. Han took a few minutes to get his breath back too and was just about to ask JT whether they should stop and make sure his daughter was alright when the door behind him opened and Bella appeared. Han stared. Despite the rough ride, Bella had somehow managed to change into her more decorous clothes from yesterday; her face was no longer painted with carmine and rouge and, with all traces of brightly-coloured feathers now gone, her hair once again hung attractively about her shoulders. Eyes sparkling with amusement at Han's dumbstruck expression she settled into her place in the middle of the seat and discreetly slipped her arm through his. As Han felt his heart skip a beat JT whipped the horses back into a lope.

ooooo-OOO-ooooo

Night was beginning to close in around them when Josiah Tweedie at last guided the wagon down a little used track and behind a thick line of cottonwoods. Like yesterday, the father and daughter team set up camp in a flash while Han fed and watered the exhausted horses.

Leaving Bella to cook the supper Han looked around for JT and eventually found him standing on the edge of the line of trees looking back toward the dark road that they had just left.

"One of the horses has a loose shoe," he stated. JT jumped.

"Oh my dear boy, you startled me!" JT took a sly swig from a bottle of Tweedie's Total Tonic before replacing the stopper and dropping it into his pocket.

"Sorry."

"How loose?"

"Well, you might wanna get it fixed at in the next town, 'specially if you're gonna run them like that again. Is everything alright?"

"Yes, yes, of course." JT turned and putting his hand on Han's shoulder steered him back toward the camp fire. "I just like to get a little distance between us and the last town that's all. Some sheriffs don't take too kindly to salesmen." He shrugged as he added, "They can have strange ideas."

"Oh, I don't think the sheriff in Hortonburg would have strange ideas. He was real helpful," said Han.

"Helpful?"

"Yeah, when I told him about Jed he—"

"You went to see the sheriff? And, after I warned you not to?" JT's voice was raised.

"Well...I...uh." Han was at a loss to see why JT might be upset.

"We, myself and Isabella that is, we stay as far away from sheriffs, deputies — any of their kind, in fact — as much as we possibly can and I would advise you to do the same, Hannibal."

"But..."

"If you wish to stay in our company, that is."

"Uh, yeah I do. But...I really don't understand."

Smiling JT turned to Bella who had been listening to this conversation intently. "Darling daughter, fetch today's acquisitives, if you please."

Bella disappeared into the back of the wagon and emerged seconds later with a leather bag. She undid the buckle and passed it to her father. JT upended the bag.

"Maybe this will tell you why."

Han nodded slowly as several small rolls of banknotes together with a pocket watch and a couple of wallets dropped onto the dirt at his feet.


	8. Chapter 8

Dust drifted through the morning air stirred up by two sets of bare feet on the barn floor. A mixture of voices shouted encouragement at the two combatants.

"C'mon," shouted Fox, clapping his hands enthusiastically as he paced back and forth. "Let's get something goin' here! You're looking a bit lazy this morning and you know I don't hold with laziness. There'll be a hundred more laps of that corral tomorrow morning for everyone if you two don't start moving!"

Jed Curry stayed silent as he watched the proceedings. The current bout once again featured Jack but this time he was faced with a slightly older boy who Jed had heard the others refer to as Scrapper.

Following Fox's threat, the two in the centre of the makeshift boxing ring moved around each other with a little more energy. Jack finally threw the first punch which missed his intended target as Scrapper ducked out of the way. Several more of the same followed until the older boy began to smile.

"Take that dang smile offa your face," growled Jack.

"If all you can do is swing at me, Jack, then I'm not wastin' my energy on more'n a smile," replied Scrapper, now bouncing back and forth, taunting his opponent. Jack's eyes narrowed and, in a desperate attempt to inflict the first blow, he stepped in a little too close giving Scrapper a chance to land a right on the side of his jaw. Jack staggered slightly then came at him again with exactly the same result.

"What the—? Block you fool!" yelled Fox.

Jack put his fists up higher in front of his face but as he moved forward again Scrapper still found a space between them and this time connected with Jack's nose. Jack shook his head trying to focus his eyes and stop them from streaming as blood ran in equal measure down his chin.

"Alright, alright. That's enough." Fox strode between the two fighters. "What the hell is the matter with you today, Jack?"

"Nothin', Mister Flanagan. I guess I couldn't find an openin'." Jack looked uncertainly at his boss and Jed felt himself tense, expecting Fox to dispense the same lesson that Billy had been given yesterday.

However, today Fox just shook his head. "Bunkum. Who's next?" Four hands shot into the air. Fox cast a disinterested eye over them, then he turned and pointed at Jed.

"You." Jed looked over his shoulder hoping that someone else had miraculously appeared behind him. He pointed to his chest. "Me?"

"You're the one my finger is pointing at, boy. Been feeding you, so now it's time you stepped up and showed us what you can do. Take that chain off him, Trip." Jed stood still while the key was inserted to remove the leg-iron.

"Take your shirt and henley off. Then come over here," Fox ordered.

Jed shivered slightly as the cold air made contact with his bare torso. He dropped his clothes on the ground and, although enjoying the freedom of being without the leg-iron, walked hesitantly into the 'ring'.

Fox handed his long black coat to Billy, carefully rolled up his shirt sleeves and faced him. "Put your fists up, like this." Jed copied the man's stance. "Now, try and punch me."

"Huh?"

"I said, throw a punch."

Blue eyes widened. "At you?"

"Yes, of course at me. Do as you're told, boy."

Every fibre of Jed's being told him that this probably wouldn't end well but, he did as instructed; drew back his right hand and swung with all his might. Flanagan leaned back slightly but his feet barely moved as Jed's punch came nowhere close to hitting any part of him. Jed almost staggered into him as he tried to regain his balance.

"You think I'm just going to walk into that, do you? Step into it, move forward. Come on!"

Jed tried again but his fist once more whistled past the man. Fox smiled and said pleasantly, "Okay, watch. Scrapper, come out here again."

Elbowing Jed out of the way Scrapper took to the ring opposite his boss. Both men crouched slightly their fists out in front of them as they circled each other. Fox aimed a few teasing jabs at his young opponent. Scrapper dodged backwards out of the way before lunging forward. Fox blocked then swiftly stepped in, his counterpunch catching Scrapper off-guard and making him stagger backwards.

"Keep your guard up, I can still get through," grinned Fox.

Scrapper repeated his last move coming a little closer this time but still not pulling back quickly enough and receiving another telling blow to his chin.

"See, you have to move your feet as well as your arm." Fox dropped his fists, straightened up and turned to Jed. "Now you try, against him."

Jed tried to emulate what he had seen Fox do. He put his fists up and faced Scrapper who was, to Jed's reckoning, about the same height and build as Han. He could do this. The two cousins had fought on occasion in the past and Jed knew he could punch Han. The thought of family momentarily took his focus away from his opponent and Scrapper's knuckles smashed into Jed's cheekbone. Jed staggered and turned away only to receive a follow up blow to his back.

"Don't you turn away from me you washy gump. C'mon, fight."

Despite the ringing in his ears and the pain in his face and back Jed Curry turned and took a wild swing. He missed.

Scrapper tried an upper-cut which, this time, connected with Jed's chin. "Ha, ha! Keep takin' those and that doxy you call 'Ma' won't recognize ya!"

Jed's eyes flashed at the slur on his mother. "What did you say?"

"You heard me alright. I ain't boxed ya ears...yet," laughed Scrapper.

Disregarding what Han had repeatedly told him about ignoring the things people said about his mother, Jed's temper flared. He balled his fists and, with his right, made a lightning fast lunge underneath his opponent's guard catching Scrapper a huge blow right in the belly.

With all the air knocked out of him so suddenly Scrapper sank to his knees looking for all the world like a fish out of water as is mouth opened and closed while he gasped for breath. Jed lunged and landed another punch this time to the side of the boy's forehead. Scrapper fell backwards in the dirt, groaning.

Jed was about to wallop him for a third time when Fox stepped forward. "Whoa there!" he said, grabbing the angry, flailing boy from behind and dumping him on his bed of straw. "That'll do, kid."

Scrambling to his feet Jed was prepared to blindly fight whoever was standing in front of him when he became aware that person was wearing a waistcoat and realized it wasn't Scrapper. Breathing hard he stood clenching and unclenching his fists, ignoring the slight trickle of blood from the corner of his mouth while he tried his best to clear the angry red mist that had once again clouded his vision as well as his common sense.

"Put that iron back on him," ordered Fox. Jed wiped at his lip with the back of his hand, streaking blood across his cheek, his blue eyes glaring icily at Fox.

Fox Flanagan turned away and smiled to himself. This boy was a natural and could make him a pile of cash, if only he could keep that temper of his under control.

Later, once the practice bouts and training were finished for the day Jedediah Curry was left on his own once more with only the sound of the prairie wind for company.

He sat wrapped in a blanket tentatively probing the cut on his lip with his tongue. He had done it again. In his mind he could hear his cousin berating him, telling him he would get badly beaten up, or worse, if he kept reacting to what people said in order to rile him. If he was going to survive here he knew that he had to find a way to shut his emotions down and stay calm and focussed just like Danny had told him gunfighters do.

While Tripp was refastening the leg-iron on him Jed had noticed the man's hands looked a little misshapen as if he had repeatedly broken bones and they hadn't set properly. Jed squinted at his own knuckles in the dim light and examined the bruising. It wasn't too bad but he realized he would have to be careful not to damage his right hand if he wanted to be able to draw fast and shoot straight.

Rubbing his painful knuckles thoughtfully an idea came to him. What if he could somehow train himself to ignore the pain? Focus on something else, something completely unrelated? It then occurred to him that if this worked he may also be able to do the same thing in order to ignore people when they tried to goad him.

Jed closed his eyes and tried to relax. Each time he felt the pain in his hand or in his jaw he tried his best to steer his thoughts away to something different. It took a while to work out what was best for him but, until he could come up with anything better, he decided on candy. Specifically, the peppermint sticks Han had bought him now and then as a treat. He could imagine the smell, the taste and...

Voices in the yard outside and the sound of the large barn door being unlocked brought him back to the present and he stood up to see what was going on. Wondering if it was another training exercise he watched as Trip pulled the large door back and four of the boys hauled the painted carnival wagon into the barn while the other two leaned their shoulders into pushing from behind. Turning it with some difficulty they left it against the far wall tucked into the corner out of the way of the 'ring' and the barn door was pulled shut again.

Clutching the blanket closely around him Jed returned to his quiet meditation but his concentration eventually wavered and he drifted off to sleep.

ooooo-OOO-ooooo

It may have only been a small sound but it woke him all the same. Jed made sure to stay perfectly still while he tried to identify the source. Having no luck with just listening he moved as silently as he could by keeping his chain amidst the straw and wriggled on his belly to the end of the stall.

Peering round the corner he could see someone holding up a lighted lamp over by the carnival wagon and he watched as the padlock was unlocked and the bolt on the door slowly and quietly drawn back. As the person raised the lamp and climbed inside Jed realized that it was Fox Flanagan. He was tempted to call out but it was plain that the man had been careful not to make any noise and his instincts, not to mention curiosity, told him to stay quiet and watch. Even though Jed had been imprisoned within the very same wagon for a number of days it had been so dark and, on the few occasions when the door had been opened, the daylight had been so blindingly bright he had not really been able to see much of what was inside.

The lamp illuminated the interior of the wagon quite well. Fox moved toward the back and knelt down next to a large metal box where he pulled a bunch of keys from his coat pocket and proceeded to open a padlock on the front of the box. Jed only just managed to suppress a gasp as Fox took two large bundles of what looked like dollar bills from his coat pocket, the man smiling to himself as he thumbed through each wad before placing them inside the strongbox.

Practically rooted to the spot by what he had seen Jed only just realized that Flanagan had finished his business and he only just had time to crawl back to his bed of straw before Fox closed up the wagon and left the barn by the side door.

Not more than a half hour later the same door opened again and Fox Flanagan entered, holding the same lamp in one hand and a steaming bowl in the other. The aroma that hit Jed's nostrils was pork and beans. To Fox, Jed appeared to still be asleep so he hung the lamp on a hook and pulled a fork from his pocket. He tapped the edge of the bowl, noisily.

Jed opened his eyes. "Here," Fox said, dropping the fork into the bowl. "I'm sure you'll be ready for this."

"Yessir!" Jed stood up, giving a sharp hiss in pain as his right hand grasped the bowl.

"I've got something for your knuckles if they're split," said Fox, reaching into his pocket.

"They're just sore, sir." Jed hurriedly shovelled a forkful of the hot food into his mouth and grimaced. The salty pork and canned tomatoes stung his split lip something awful. "Mouth hurts," he mumbled after spitting the beans back into the bowl.

"Let me see." Fox stepped forward and tilted the boy's face up towards the lamp. He ran his thumb over the swelling. "That's nothing," he confirmed. "There'll be plenty more of those. You'll get used to it."

Jed gave him a disgruntled stare as he sat down and tried another forkful this time keeping the beans to the opposite cheek.

"Believe it or not, you did well today," Fox said. "It probably don't feel like it, but you did. Anyone who can floor Scrapper like that is pretty good."

"He riled me," mumbled Jed.

"Yeah, I know. Do you only hit like that when someone riles you?"

Embarrassed, Jed kept his eyes on his food.

"I asked you a question."

Jed looked up, uncertain as to what he should say. "I guess," he admitted.

"Well, if you want to fight and win you're gonna have to learn to keep that temper of yours in check. It may help you to land a really great punch from time to time like you did today, but in the end, boy, it will get you killed. When you're in the ring, losing your temper even a little can make you let your guard down and then the fight can be over real quick. Understand?"

Jed nodded, this was exactly what Han had been telling him. He intended to do something about it but he didn't want to share his proposed technique for controlling his temper just yet — not until he had worked out how successful it was, anyway.

"Tell you what... you join my little band of fighters and you can come and live in the nice warm farmhouse with the others instead of being chained up here in this draughty old barn. This is the last time you're gonna eat if you don't earn it. You fight for me and you'll get fed and clothed and, like I said before, some prize money in your pocket when you win. We've got most of the winter to work on that temper of yours, Jed Curry."

Fox paused for a moment and stared thoughtfully at the floor. "Y' know, the name Jed doesn't really suit a fighter, can't really say why, but it don't." Then, as an idea came to him he looked up and grinned. "I've got it! As you're still just a kid that's what we're gonna call you. 'Kid'. So... do we have a deal... Kid Curry?"

At that very moment the wind picked up finding its way through the myriad of gaps in the wooden panels of the barn walls and, despite having a belly full of warm food, Jed shivered. He was smart enough to realize that he had no alternative — he needed somewhere to stay for the coming winter. If Flanagan turned him out onto the vast prairie now, clad as he was with no coat and no boots, he would freeze to death way before he found somewhere else to shelter.

Jed was not entirely sure about the name 'Kid' but, certain that he wouldn't have it for long, he nodded his head in agreement.

"Deal."

ooooo-OOO-ooooo

Last night's leftover rabbit stew was proving to be a little tough. Hannibal Heyes chewed laboriously on a piece of meat studying his travelling companions as he did so.

When he eventually managed to swallow the offending mouthful he said, "Can I ask you a question, JT?"

The man looked up quickly from wiping his plate with a stale biscuit. "What's that Hannibal?"

"How much profit do you make on each bottle of that tonic?"

JT frowned. "Why do you want to know?"

"I just figured you can't make a whole lot else you wouldn't have to steal that money or those wallets."

"It's what we do — how we live," smiled the flimflam man. "I sell Tweedie's Total Tonic and Isabella relieves those, who probably would never consider purchasing a bottle, of their money. You see, a dollar a bottle barely covers our costs. Making Tweedie's Total Tonic doesn't come cheap, you know."

"Making it? I thought it came from New York."

JT barked out a loud laugh. "New York?! No, m' boy. Whatever gave you that idea?"

"That's what you said."

"When?"

"To the folks in Hortonburg."

"I did? Oh, yes...yes...I supposes I did." JT smiled. "Well, I have to tell them something to get them interested in parting with their money. Can't have them just ogling my beautiful Isabella. Most of them are illiterate fellows so I mention a big city back east and they think they're getting something really special."

"But they ain't," Han concluded with a nod. Bella giggled at Han's expression as the penny finally dropped.

"No Hannibal, they're not," confirmed JT. "You tried it. What did it taste like to you?"

"Some kinda liquor, I guess."

"Exactly! There is whiskey in it, very cheap whiskey, but it's watered down by an infusion of herbs that Isabella brews up when we stop a while."

"How do you get those wallets without anybody knowing, Bella?" Han wanted to know. "I sure didn't see you."

JT laughed. "You didn't see her because she's very good at it."

Han put the plate with his half-eaten supper down on the ground beside him and with a sigh leaned back against a tree.

"What's the matter, Han," Bella asked, as she reached across him in order to pick up his plate. "Don't you like your supper?" Han held his breath as her soft dark curls almost brushed his face.

"Sorry, Bella," he croaked. "I'm not very hungry tonight. I guess not finding Jed in Hortonburg made me a whole lot more worried about him than I realized."

"And a little distracted, maybe?" The fingertips of Bella's right hand waved in front of his eyes. They held the few folded dollar bills that had been tucked in his shirt pocket.

"Hey!" Aghast, Han quickly seized the money and put it back where it belonged. "How did you do that? I didn't feel a thing!"

JT positively beamed with pride. "I told you she was good."

"It's easy when you know how," confirmed Bella.

"If you stay with us, Hannibal, Isabella could teach you how to do that. In fact, I think there's quite a lot she could teach you."

Momentarily, Han's heart beat a little faster as his teenage mind worked on exactly what he would like that to entail. Before he embarrassed himself he quickly chased off the image and brought his mind back to the present. "I dunno," he said, "That's thievin' and I did kinda promise that I wouldn't do that again."

"So... you have been involved in a little misappropriation?"

Han looked down at his lap, shame-faced and murmured, "If misappropriation mean's stealin' then yessir, I stole some food from a general store. Jed and I were starving," he added by way of justification.

"My dear boy, loading up your arms with goods from a general store is hard work and besides, money and jewellery can be hidden in large quantities very effectively about your person. Isabella, show Hannibal your working dress."

Bella retrieved her red dress from the wagon and draped it across Han's lap. "Look," she said, pulling at the skirt lining to reveal a large pocket on each side. Han could see that anything placed in these pockets would be well hidden amid the deep ruching of the fabric.

"Picking pockets is merely one form of larceny, Hannibal," continued JT. "There are many...some of which, card tricks for example, involve skills such as sleight of hand; some call for careful planning and split-second timing, like bank or train robbery and others well, they require a certain level of violence, which I don't personally hold with."

Bella moved the dress to one side and Han swallowed hard as she took hold of one of his hands. Gently running her index finger along each of his fingers and across the downy back of his hand to his wrist, she said, "You've got nice hands, Han. Slender fingers, and I'll bet sensitive and steady too. You could be a dipper for sure or work a shell game real well." She glanced over at JT who was watching Han closely.

"What say you, m' boy? There's money to be made...easy money."

A frown creased Han's brow as he slowly got to his feet and turned to JT. "I'm gonna have to think on that a little, sir, if you don't mind."

"Yes, by all means. Sleep on it."

"I'll go check on the horses before l turn in."

"Make sure you get a good night's rest, Hannibal. We'll be on the road again bright and early." JT called as Han nodded his thanks and disappeared among the trees.


	9. Chapter 9

Hannibal's dark brown eyes stared unfocussed at the mud-caked boards above his head. The air was cool, the new day barely touching the horizon, but already he could hear movement from the interior of the wagon.

He hadn't had much sleep. It wasn't the chill that had begun to creep into the night air or the hardness of the ground that he lay on that had kept him awake, it was Mister Tweedie's offer.

As he turned it over and over in his mind Han had to admit that the idea of obtaining even small amounts of money with little effort was extremely appealing but his conscience kept reminding him of the fact that only a few months ago he had told Sheriff Dunbar that he wouldn't steal again. In the darkest hours of the night he also found his thoughts drifting unbidden to his parents, imagining what they would have said on the subject of him making his living outside the law. It was this that really bothered him.

The idea of moving from town to town wasn't a problem. For the last five years Han had not had what he considered to be a proper home, except for the short time he and Jed had spent with the Dunbars and besides, an itinerant lifestyle would give him the opportunity to keep looking for his cousin.

Han knew he would always be grateful to Mister Todd for taking a chance and employing him but, now that he gave it serious consideration, he couldn't imagine ever being content working in a general store for the rest of his life. He certainly couldn't see himself taking on any kind of manual work either; as far as he was concerned that was just too hard on the back. But, doing something that involved using his hands as well as his brain, now that was a very attractive proposition.

He had just that minute managed to convinced himself that pursuing some form of criminal activity would only be a temporary arrangement, until something more law-abiding came along, when the door to the wagon creaked open and Han saw Bella's boots hit the ground as she jumped down. He shifted onto his side and pulled his blankets further up around his ears hoping once again to observe her, unseen, for a while. If he was being truthful, right now he didn't know whether it was the thought of spending more time with her or the easy money on offer that excited him the most.

Kneeling by the cold ashes of the fire Bella proceeded to hold an ornately curved firesteel over a handful of dry grass and strike it against a large piece of flint. After several tries she produced enough sparks and the grass caught alight. Bending forward she gently blew on the incipient flame encouraging it to grow while gradually added more kindling. Satisfied that it would stay lit she moved to the pile of fallen branches that Han had gathered last night and tried to snap off some smaller pieces. She placed her foot on a branch and pulled only to let go and quickly suck her finger.

Hannibal Heyes rolled out from under the wagon and was at her side in seconds.

"Mornin' Bella," he said, hastily tucking his no longer white henley into his equally grubby jeans and pushing a lock of brown hair away from his face. "Let me break some of those branches for you." Not stopping to reason that he would have had to have been watching her to know this, he added, "Did you just get a splinter?"

Bella held out her hand allowing Han to peer closely at her finger. "I think I can see it. It's not deep," he said, feeling in his pocket for one of his bent nails. He held up the one with the flattened end. "This will get it out. Try and hold still now."

Bella watched as Han held her hand firmly in his and pushed at the base of the sharp fragment with the nail, gently coaxing it out from under her skin.

"There," he grinned, brushing the splinter away before reluctantly letting go of her hand.

"Thank you." Bella leant toward him and Han felt her lips lightly brush his cheek.

Ducking his head with a mumbled "You're welcome," Han proceeded to break up some of the branches to add to the fire, all the while hoping his face wasn't as red as it felt.

Soon a pot of coffee was brewing while Bella made up a batch of batter for pancakes. After a time she stopped beating the mixture and asked, "That thing you had in your pocket. Was it a nail?"

"It used to be."

Bella laughed. "You keep a nail in your pocket?"

"Oh, I gotta couple of them. They're bent at different angles. I got hair pins too."

"Hair pins?!"

Han felt a little embarrassed at having revealed that he carried ladies' hair pins in his pocket. "They make good lock picks."

Bella stared at Han. "You can pick locks?"

"Yeah, some," he admitted, with a shy smile.

"You didn't say anything about that last night when I picked your pocket."

"Guess I forgot. Haven't done it in a while."

Bella laughed again as she dropped a large spoonful of batter into the hot frying pan resting by the fire. They both watched the batter sizzle and bubble.

"Breakfast's ready, Papa!" called Bella as she flipped the pancake before dishing it up and handing the plate to Han. Placing another spoonful of batter into the pan she repeated the process, Han once again being the grateful recipient.

One minute later Josiah Tweedie emerged from the wagon still tying his cravat. "Morning, children!"

Coffee was duly poured and several pancakes consumed before anyone spoke again.

"Papa, did you know Han can pick locks?"

JT's eyes widened. " _Really?_ That _is_ interesting. Exactly what kind of locks?"

Han swallowed the last mouthful of yet another pancake. "Padlocks, door locks, that kinda thing. I can't open anything big, like a jail cell. That don't mean I won't never be able to. I'm sure I could figure it out. I just need the right picks, is all."

"Who taught you to do this?" asked JT.

"Nobody. I figured it out for myself. Y' see Jed and me... well, we needed to get out of the place where we were living so I fashioned some picks outta what was lying around and... well, we got out." Han didn't feel ready to tell his new friends about his past in too much detail just yet. "It weren't a jail — just a lot of doors to get through," he added by way of explanation.

The flimflam man regarded his young prospect thoughtfully then he walked to the wagon returning with a metal box, a little rusty around the edges, the lid of which was held shut by a padlock.

"Have you got the right picks to open this for me, Hannibal?"

"You lose the key or somethin'?"

"No, it's here in my pocket." Tweedie patted his colourful vest. "I just want to see you do it."

Selecting one of his makeshift instruments Han proceeded to manipulate the lock. In no time at all the padlock sprang open and his face broke into a wide grin. He hadn't practiced at all during his time in Serenity and was relieved to see that he hadn't lost his touch.

"Well, that was impressive!" JT re-secured the box. "How did you know which pick to use?"

Han shrugged. "Can't rightly say. It's like I can feel the way the mechanism is gonna work."

"Have you ever attempted to open anything else? A safe, for instance?"

A little taken aback by this question Han shook his head. "No sir. Anyway, I don't think safes have locks you can pick, do they?"

"My, you are a smart one, Hannibal! Safes certainly don't have ordinary locks, they have very complex locks these days in the form of a dial which you turn. This dial has numbers on it and when you get the numbers in the right order the tumblers inside fall into place and the lock opens."

"What's a tumbler?"

Josiah Tweedie sighed. "Ah, the working mechanism of a safe will involve quite a long discussion, m' boy. So, does this mean you've decided to join us?"

Han was particularly intrigued by the idea of opening something as elaborate as a safe so he made a snap decision. "Yessir. I'd like to learn all you can teach me."

"Excellent!" exclaimed JT as he threw the dregs from his coffee cup on the fire. Then, with a spring in his step he headed for the wagon momentarily stopping to look back over his shoulder at Han.

"If you're the quick study I think you are, Hannibal," he said, a sly smile playing on his lips. "It won't take you long to pick up some tricks and even less time to learn that stolen money is sweeter by far than money earned."

ooooo-OOO-ooooo

The blankets felt rough against his freshly washed skin but Jed Curry didn't care. The fact that he had spent the night on a mattress in a warm room instead of on a pile of straw in a draughty barn was all that mattered. Sharing a bed with two other boys hadn't bother him either — he had shared one with his brothers back on the farm in Kansas.

Yesterday evening when Fox Flanagan had escorted him into the house Jed had been worried that the others might not readily accept him but his fears were soon put to rest. Billy and Jack had greeted him in a friendly manner and had helped a heavy-set, bald-headed man with a crooked nose whose name he now knew to be Biff, fill a small round tub with hot water. Once he was clean Trip had checked him over for cuts and bruises and applied a strange, almost metallic-smelling salve to his ankle which was badly bruised from the heavy leg iron. The bruises sustained from his bout with Scrapper were also treated. He was then given a selection of ill-fitting, but freshly laundered, clothes as well as a pair of boots.

Jed had turned over to face the door when, without warning, Trip burst into the room announcing at the top of his voice that it was time to get up. Billy and Ed, the two boys Jed had been sharing with, jumped to their feet but the older boys all began grumbling and pulling the bedcovers over their heads. Trip issued forth a stream of colourful oaths while he stripped the blankets from the beds ignoring their cries of complaint.

Jed felt someone prod him in the back. "C'mon, Jed. You gotta get up real quick," Billy said, anxiously.

"That's good advice, Kid," muttered Trip before yelling, "Move, you bunch of lazy curs!"

There was a brief moment of chaos in the small room as the sleepy-eyed, underwear-clad boys scrambled to pull on their pants and boots and head for the door. Once out in the yard they all stood shivering in the cool morning air, some impatiently waiting to use the outhouse while others rinsed their face and hands at the pump.

By the time they returned to the warm kitchen Biff was pouring hot water into tin mugs and placing a large pan of hard-boiled eggs on the pine table. Each boy took his place on one of the benches warming his hands around a mug until it was his turn to take two eggs from the pan. All chatter then ceased and a chorus of tapping reverberated around the room as shells were cracked against the tabletop. Jed hungrily ate the protein-rich food, sucking in air around each scalding mouthful to cool it.

Biff lazed in a rocking chair beside the large pot belly stove until he heard footsteps approaching. Then he rose and poured out a fresh mug of coffee. The footsteps belonged to Fox Flanagan and as the kitchen door opened the boys stood up respectfully.

"Good mornin', Mister Flanagan," they all said, staying on their feet until Fox indicated they should sit. Jed's heart sank. This felt a lot like being back at the Home. He just hoped that the penalties for any misdemeanours wouldn't be as harsh.

"Mornin', boys." Fox sipped the coffee and surveyed his collection of young fighters. Moving to stand behind Jed he rested a hand on the boy's shoulder. "For those of you who haven't been properly introduced this here's our new recruit, Jedediah Curry." Jed gave a faint smile as he looked around at the six pairs of eyes focussed on him. "He's gonna be doing his first training session today. I expect you all to help him get accustomed to our drills and routines. He's gonna be boxing under the name of Kid so I want you all to get him used to that by not calling him Jedediah. Got that?"

"Yessir, Mister Flanagan" murmured each boy.

"Good. Now get yourselves out to that corral. Trip's waiting."

The benches ground noisily on the floorboards as the boys dutifully stripped off their henleys and high-tailed it out into the yard.

ooooo-OOO-ooooo

By noon Jed was exhausted.

At the start it hadn't seemed so bad. Jogging around the large corral was relatively easy and Jed felt he could do that all day long but, after several laps Trip clapped his hands and the pace increased considerably. Being smaller than the others he and Billy eventually struggled to keep up but, when Trip shouted "One hundred!" Jed was pleased to see all the boys, even the older ones, stand sweating and panting.

Next they made their way over to a row of burlap sacks which were propped up against the side of the barn. The boys formed a line and, holding the sacks high above their heads, passed them from one to the other along the line to make a pile at the other end. At first Jed figured the sacks were stuffed with straw but quickly changed this assumption to rocks after they had repeated the manoeuvre back and forth for the umpteenth time.

"Keep those arms up, Kid," shouted Trip, as a sack was almost dropped on Jed's head after he lowered his aching arms in order to shake them. "You too, Billy. Y' ain't gonna get no strength in yer arms by runnin', y' know."

When this exercise came to an end Jed stood rubbing his trembling arms and flexing his sore shoulders as his voice joined the others in a general groan of relief. They had barely had time to recover when it was back to the corral for another run followed by more passing of sacks, this time held in front at arm's length.

"Trip, I swear you make those goddamn sacks heavier each time," complained Scrapper, rubbing his arms vigorously.

Grinning to himself Trip slid open the doors of the large barn and they all filed inside.

With his own arms feeling as if they were going to fall off at any moment Jed couldn't help but glance, somewhat longingly, at the stall he had previously occupied thinking that at least when he was living out here he didn't have to do all this hard work. A gust of wind whipped through the door at exactly the same moment reminding him how warm and comfortable he had been last night. Jed sighed. He would get used to the training; he had to. His only other options were starving or freezing to death.

Appreciating a few minutes rest Jed slumped down onto the dirt floor only to be hauled to his feet by Trip. "Ain't no sittin' down 'til Mister Flanagan says so, Kid."

They stood in silence waiting until Fox Flanagan eventually sauntered in carrying what looked to Jed like two over-stuffed saddlebags and announced, "Today's bouts are all about dodging your opponent's punches, so I don't want to see any new bruises. Is that clear? Now get to it." He beckoned to Jed. "Kid, you come with me."

Jed followed Fox over to another area of the barn and stood patiently while the man took of his coat and hung it on a nail. Carefully rolling up his shirt sleeves he said, "Now, Kid, before I let you fight one of the others again, you're gonna do some work over here with me."

Inwardly Jed groaned. He could barely lift his arms let alone throw a punch. Fox caught the troubled look and guessed what the problem was. He took hold of one of Jed's arms and began kneading it with this thumbs.

"OW!" exclaimed Jed before he could stop himself.

"There's gonna be a lot more pain than this, Kid, and if you're gonna be a fighter you'll have to deal with it every day, 'specially during the carnival season. Stand still while I ease these muscles some."

Jed didn't feel that now was a good time to admit that what he really wanted was to learn to use a gun, not his fists, so he concentrated on his newly contrived technique of breathing through the discomfort while Fox worked his way up his arms and across his shoulders.

"Roll your shoulders and arms, like this." Fox demonstrated and Jed copied him. "Better?" Jed nodded. Strangely, his arms didn't feel as heavy.

Fox picked up the bags by a strap stitched onto one side and held one in each hand. "Stand like I showed you the other day, fists up in front. That's right. Now, punch one of these bags."

Jed swung with his right and hit the centre of one of the bags. "Not bad, but I want you to do it without such a big swing, Kid. You don't want to give your opponent time to think about getting outta the way. Keep your fists in front and lean into it a bit more. Try to imagine you're hitting through the bag, like you're aiming at something on the other side but remember, keep control or you're gonna get tired real quick. One punch with your left and one with your right to each bag. Go!"

Frowning with concentration Jed landed punch after punch until his knuckles hurt and his already tired arms began to give out. He dropped his hands to his sides.

"Hey! Who told you to stop?!"

Damp blond curls stuck to Jed's face as he hung his head, breathing hard.

"C'mon, Kid. Even Billy can do this," Fox goaded. "Do you want me to get him over here, show him what a baby you are, huh?"

"I ain't a baby," Jed mumbled tightly. One of the boys at the Home used to call him that when he said bad things about his mother.

"Prove it."

Mustering every bit of strength he had left Jed balled his right fist and let fly. The punch took Fox Flanagan a little by surprise and he found himself taking a step backward as the force reverberated through the bag, up his arm, and beyond.

Jed sank to his knees. "Can't do it again, Mister Flanagan," he gasped. "Please sir, don't make me. I can't use my arms no more."

Tossing both bags to one side Fox hauled Jed to his feet and despite his protestations once again kneaded the boy's sore muscles. He then marched him out into the yard and over to the water trough. "Dip both your arms in there, right up to your armpits," he ordered. Jed wondered if he had heard him right. He looked at Fox, then at the trough of cold water, then back at Fox. When Jed didn't do as he was told Fox seized him by the back of his neck and bent him over the trough. "Do it!"

Jed didn't want to imagine what might befall him if he didn't comply so he steeled himself and plunged his arms into the cold water. Fox held him there for a few minutes before allowing him to straighten up. He looked at the wet shivering boy and said grudgingly, "Alright, go into the house and get dry. I guess that's enough for your first day."

A good half hour passed before the others eventually joined Jed in the kitchen. Pulling on his henley had proved a little difficult at first and his hands had been shaking so much that it had taken an age to button up his slightly oversized shirt but he had persevered and now he sat at the table still exhausted, but a lot warmer. He did his best to ignore the comments and catcalls that came his way from the older boys at having been allowed inside early but received a sympathetic look from Billy who, Jed noted, also appeared to struggle to dress.

Nobody found passing the plates loaded with biscuits, cheese and ham around the table difficult, however, and their contents were quickly consumed with ravenous enthusiasm. After the meal Trip assigned the day's chores, which for Jed was to wash his own clothes in the trough outside in the yard.

He had not long dipped the first filthy item into the cold water when Billy staggered toward him carrying a large pile of bed sheets piled on top of an old wooden washboard.

"Biff said you had the soap," he said, dumping his burden onto the dirt.

Jed groped around in the water and fished out a large bar of soap. "Here it is." He placed it on the edge of the trough. "You gotta do all those by yourself?"

The other boy nodded and pushed one sheet after the other into the already murky water. Jed rubbed some soap into the perspiration stained armpits of his shirt. "But, that'll take ages!"

Billy shrugged his shoulders. "Sometimes I don't finish 'til dark. Then I miss supper. It's the wringin' out that's hard, real hard on days when we've had to pass those sacks."

"I'll help when I've finished washing my clothes; it's easier when there's two of you. I remember watchin' my Ma and sister twist the water outta bed sheets."

"Gee, thanks, Kid." It was the first time Jed had seen Billy smile but the smile faded fast. "But I don't know if I should let ya."

"Why not?"

"It's my chore — not yours."

Jed shrugged. "Okay."

They worked in silence for some time until Jed could no longer contain his curiosity. "You been with Mister Flanagan long, Billy?"

Billy continued rubbing a sheet against the washboard as he cautiously regarded Jed out of the corner of one eye. "Why ya wanna know?"

"Well, he don't seem to treat you real good so... I was just wonderin'... why do you stay?"

After checking to make sure nobody was within earshot Billy replied, "Don't have no choice, Kid. Mister Flanagan says I owe him a lot of money for all the fights I've lost, so I gotta work to repay him."

"You have to pay him when you lose?!"

"Shhh! I ain't supposed to tell nobody," said Billy, glancing nervously over his shoulder.

"You get prize money when you win though, don'tcha? That's what he told me."

"I don't win much. I'm not real good."

"So why does he make you fight if he knows you're gonna lose?"

"I dunno. Just make sure ya win, Kid. Win any way ya can or Mister Flanagan will make ya pay." Jed stared at the boy in disbelief and recognized fear in his eyes.

"Is that why he punched you the other day?"

Billy grimaced at the memory.

"This rule, is it the same for everyone?"

Billy shrugged. "I seen Scrapper and Jack with some money a few times. They don't lose much."

"You should get out, Billy, run away."

"I ain't got nowhere to go. It ain't so bad, Kid; I got food in my belly and a place to sleep which is more'n I had before Mister Flanagan took me in. Hard work and a few bruises ain't too much to pay."

Jed squeezed the water out of the last of his clothes and hung them over the corral railings while he digested this shocking piece of information. Paying for his keep with hard work he could just about live with, but even when he and Han were starving he still wouldn't have considered paying with bruises to be a good deal. He stared in thought at the water-soaked dirt at his feet wondering what he had got himself into until Billy asked, "You changed your mind about helpin' me?"

The two boys set about emptying the trough and filling it with clean water from the pump. Having rinsed as much soap from the sheets as possible Jed showed Billy how to fold the saturated bed sheets lengthways and then, taking an end each, Jed twisted the sheet in one direction while Billy twisted in the other until it wouldn't turn any more, thereby expelling most of the water. This process still made their arms ache but all the sheets were wrung out and hanging on the rails to dry in half the time.

Their chores accomplished Billy picked up the washboard and he and Jed headed back to the house. Neither boy had any intention of missing supper today.


	10. Chapter 10

The passing days quickly turned into weeks. The weakening sun rose lower in the sky, the leaves on the trees took on their vibrant reds and yellows and the nights were noticeably colder, but still there was no trace of Jedediah Curry.

Hannibal Heyes had scoured the main streets of so many towns now that he could barely remember all their names and he began to wish he had turned left at the signpost and gone in the direction of Silktree, instead of right to Hortonburg. He knew it was too late to speculate as to whether he had made the right choice, but he decided that come spring if he had still not found Jed, he would head back to Silktree and start the search again there. In the meantime, all he could do was worry.

The longer the search dragged on, the more Jed's disappearance gnawed at Han, giving him an overwhelming sense of failure. Failure to keep a promise. Not the promise he had glibly made to Sheriff Dunbar; this was more like an oath, solemnly sworn, and one his cousin knew nothing about. Even though he was only ten years old at the time and trying to deal with the worst day of his young life, Han had still found the courage to look into a different pair of cornflower blue eyes and vow to take care of Martha Curry's youngest son. Because of the pain it caused him he rarely recalled that moment but, as the road stretched endlessly ahead, he allowed himself to think on it for a while.

In Han's opinion. Jed was way too trusting. Despite the murder of their families, the destruction of their homes and the treatment they had experienced in the School for Waywards, his cousin had never wavered from the belief that people — even strangers — would be kind to him, tell him the truth; an attitude which resulted in him being slow to learn some of life's more unpleasant lessons. Han could only guess that he must have inherited this attribute — he certainly hadn't picked it up from him. Hannibal Heyes had a strong leaning toward self-preservation, which meant he viewed the world with an air of scepticism. This applied to everything and everybody, even the Tweedies.

Right from the start Han sensed that Josiah Tweedie hadn't given him a ride and a meal out of the kindness of his heart. JT had an ulterior motive, that much was obvious even before his little lock picking demonstration. Even so, Han would welcome learning whatever the flimflam man could teach him; any skills he could master, lawful or not, could go a long way to preventing himself and Jed from starving in the future.

The last signpost had stated 'Fallon City - 15 miles'. Han had been so deep in thought over the last few days that he hadn't exactly been watching the passing countryside and was therefore unaware that any indications of civilization were becoming more sparse and the prairie more prevalent.

Describing Fallon as a city was ambitious to say the least. In fact, Fallon was so quiet it could, on any given day, easily fit the description of a one horse town. Ordinarily, the Tweedies would give towns such as this a wide berth — there just weren't enough people around to warrant setting up not to mention the fact that Bella's sleight of hand might be spotted if there wasn't a good crowd around her. But today was not a normal day. It was payday on the surrounding farms, some may even have paid an end of season bonus, so the town would be buzzing with activity. The stores would keep the same hours as the busy saloon, staying open late into the evening and, like their proprietors, JT knew there would be money to be made — one way or another.

Hannibal once again drifted into town a couple of hours ahead of the wagon. There was no sheriff's office (another excellent reason for the Tweedies to stop there) so he just had to be content with making enquiries about his cousin in the saloon, livery stable and the general store. Once more, no one had seen or heard anything.

Finding he had time to spare Han leant against a wall as near as he could to the warmth of the blacksmith's furnace and watched him work. Today the blacksmith was fashioning something a little more interesting than horseshoes or wheel rims and Han was intrigued. Eventually his curiosity got the better of him and he just had to ask. Luckily, the blacksmith was an affable fellow and was happy to explain that the long piece of metal with helical grooves running around one end was part of something called a bar spreader, a tool used in the building of houses and barns. He even had a drawing of the finished article.

Later, following the unique fanfare, the townsfolk eagerly gathered in the street as JT's brightly painted wagon pulled to a halt in the middle of the main thoroughfare.

Instead of standing and posing alongside her father as she usually did Bella worked the crowd from the outset. Han stepped up onto a large overturned bucket and watched. Try as he might, he still was unable to catch the moment her quick fingers dipped into jacket linings and unguarded pockets.

JT had once again reached the point in his patter where he picked out some unsuspecting victim to coerce into purchasing the first bottle of Tweedie's Total Tonic when the crowd parted slightly and Han could see Bella more clearly. A couple of rough farm boys stood either side of her, amusing themselves by making lewd remarks but it wasn't their feeble attempts to paw her that made his eyes suddenly widen in alarm.

There was a wallet at her feet.

Whether the clumsy groping had caused it to fall as she lifted it from a pocket or whether she had missed the hidden pouch in her skirts in the process of stashing it away Han had no way of knowing. His only thought was to get to her before anyone else saw it and guessed what she was doing.

"I'll take a bottle!" Han shouted, waving his money in the air as he pressed his way straight through the middle of the crowd making sure to shove one of the farmhands in the back.

"Hey! Watch where yer goin'!" A large hand tinged with years of ground-in dirt pushed him away.

Han pushed back. "Who d' you think you're pushin'?"

"Right now, sonny? You."

"Looks to me like you and your friend are too busy pushin' the lady here."

Bella glanced at Han and the feathers in her hair quivered as she tried to convey a small shake of her head. He needed to back off — she could handle these two. Her somewhat scantily clad form often attracted this type of attention and she had quickly learned to deal with it. Experience had also shown her that any trouble in the crowd could quickly escalate into something ugly and so was to be avoided at all cost.

The second farmhand laughed showing a line of crooked teeth. "Lady? She ain't no lady."

Han could feel his temper rising and a number of acerbic retorts came to mind, but he kept to his plan. "Well, whatever you want to call her, it still don't mean you can push her around," was all he allowed himself to say.

"Alright then. I'll just push you around instead." The first farmhand gave Han a firm shove and he sat down abruptly in the dirt on the precise spot he had intended — right on top of the dropped wallet.

Thinking he was on some misguided mission to defend her honour Bella ignored the young man now sitting at her feet. Neatly stepping around him she purred at the farm boys, "Now, now, fellas. There's no need to fight on my account. There's plenty for both of you... Tweedie's Tonic I mean," she fluttered her eyelashes and linking their arms in hers steered them toward the wagon.

Rubbing his dusty backside Han surreptitiously slid the wallet into his back pocket. A quick glance around confirmed that nobody appeared to have noticed anything amiss so he jumped to his feet and made his way forward again, waving his dollar in the air.

ooooo-OOO-ooooo

"What the hell did you think you were doing back there?" shouted an irate JT as he slapped the reins, urging the two greys into a faster pace.

"Bella was in trouble," Han yelled back, trying to make himself heard over pounding hooves and the rattle of the wheels.

"She can handle clodpoles. She doesn't need you interfering."

Han white knuckled the side of the wagon as it took a bend much too fast, barely staying upright. "I know that. But. She dropped a wallet."

"What?!"

"She dropped this!" With his free hand Han reached into his back pocket and held up the leather billfold. JT's eyes flickered briefly toward it but he didn't comment; instead he turned his attention back to the road.

The horses thundered on.

"Jeez! Any chance we could slow down a little?" Han was sure the old wagon would fall apart or at the very least lose a wheel if they continued like this for much longer. He also had no idea how Bella managed to change her clothes inside without sustaining any injuries while they hurtled along at this breakneck speed.

Nothing more was said on the matter until after supper that evening when Han tossed the wallet onto Tweedie's lap.

"Here, this belongs with the rest of today's take."

"Ah yes, the errant wallet." JT eagerly thumbed through its contents.

A look of concern crossed Bella's face. "Where did you get that? I thought we'd agreed that you wouldn't try and lift anything until you'd been taught."

"I didn't lift it. I ain't stupid!" Somewhat embarrassed by the unintended vehemence of his protest Han added more softly, "It was at your feet, Bella. I was worried someone might spot it."

"Oh... I wondered why you took on those two oafs. How did you pick it up? I didn't see you."

"I slipped it into my pocket when that big fella pushed me over."

JT grinned. "I have to commend your quick thinking, m' boy. A keen pair of eyes like yours will certainly be an asset to our little operation. Isabella has a lot of responsibility being on her own out there in the crowd. It will be good for her to have someone to share it with when we start again next year."

"Next year?"

The flimflam man gave a loud yawn. "Yes, our year has once again come to an end. That was our last take. Tomorrow, we head home for the winter."

Han had never considered that the Tweedies might actually have a home and he spent most of the following day eyeing the endless prairie and speculating exactly where and what that 'home' might consist of. Having spied the occasional chimney pipe from a dug-out and a couple of one room soddies along the way he was pleasantly surprised when, just before sundown, the wagon turned off the main road down a short track and into a small farmyard.

Bringing the horses to a halt JT looked around. All appeared to be quiet, there was no sign of life. Satisfied that no claim jumpers had made the place their own while they were gone he tied off the reins with a smile.

"This is it, Hannibal. Home, sweet home!"

Han jumped down from the wagon and surveyed the wooden farmhouse. There was also a barn with a small corral at the rear. The buildings were all in need of a coat of paint but thankfully appeared to be structurally sound. He grabbed his few belongings and followed father and daughter onto the porch.

JT stood by the front door searching through his pockets, a look of concern wrinkling his brow. "I can't seem to locate my key, darn it!" He blinked enquiringly at Han. "Couldn't let us in, could you?"

With an affable sigh Han reached for his makeshift lock picks. Less than half a minute later he pushed open the door at precisely the same time that JT produced a key from his vest pocket with a cheeky, "Oh, look, here it is!"

Han rolled his eyes. "You had it all along, didn't you?"

"Maybe," smirked JT.

Han's laugh was cut short and a tingle ran though his fingers as Bella took him by the hand and lead him into the large but musty-smelling kitchen. "We don't have any spare bedrooms so the only place you can sleep is there," she said, pointing to a small iron-frame bed to one side of the large stone fireplace. "The mattress probably needs a little more straw but..."

"It looks fine to me, Bella. I've been sleeping under the wagon, remember." Han sat down and prodded the mattress. "Feels real comfortable."

"Come on children," called JT from the doorway, briskly rubbing his hands. "Daylight is waning and we've things to do.

It took some time but eventually the horses were tended to, water was hauled up from the well, supplies and personal possessions brought inside, and a fire established in the fireplace giving the place a more homely feel.

Due to their sorely depleted supplies, the three ate a scant supper which was enjoyable enough; the most enjoyable part being the luxury of sitting at a table instead of around a campfire. While Bella finished clearing the dishes away JT settled himself in an old spindle-back rocking chair by the fire, took a tin from a nook in the corner of the fireplace and proceeded to press a wad of tobacco into the bowl of a clay pipe. Han politely excused himself and went outside.

He stood for quite some time, leaning his elbows on the porch rail and staring out at a scattering of stars appearing one by one across the indigo sky. The cold night air showed his breath in little white puffs and Han prayed, as he had done every night since Jed's disappearance, that his cousin was somewhere warm and safe.

"Are you alright?" So lost was he in his own thoughts that the soft voice startled him. Glancing over his shoulder he watched Bella step outside and close the door.

"You'll get cold out here. I'll be in soon."

"It's a beautiful night, Han."

"Mmmm."

Bella stood beside him, her face tilted skyward and her dark eyes sparkling along with the stars. "You're thinking about Jed." It was a statement rather than a question.

"Yeah, seems I haven't thought about anyone 'cept him since we were small," Han answered, his eyes still fixed on the heavens. "Come spring he'll be fourteen years old but he kinda seems younger to me. He is capable of looking after himself but I can't help worrying that he's out there somewhere alone and hungry, and I can't do a darn thing to help him."

"I may not be able to tell you where you can find him but Jed is warm and fed, Han," Bella said with conviction. "Papa says I have 'second sight' because I can sense things that I can't see. I'm usually right."

"I hope so, Bella, I really do."

After a long minute Han finally turned to look at her. "Is that 'second sight' of yours any good at tellin' if there's coffee left in the pot?" he asked, a humorous twinkle in his eye.

"Well, there was a little while back, but Papa may have drunk it all by now — if he hasn't fallen asleep, that is."

Han blew on his cold hands. "I could do with some. C'mon, let's go see."

ooooo-OOO-ooooo

The next morning, after a warm and surprisingly comfortable night on the lumpy old mattress, Han awoke to the smell of coffee and freshly baked biscuits. He was both surprised and a little shamefaced that Bella had managed to do everything by herself without him waking up.

He yawned and stretched drawing her soft smile in his direction before grabbing his pants from the end of the bed and wriggling into them under the covers. Wrapping a blanket around his shoulders he muttered a croaky "Mornin'" before letting himself out into the early chill to visit to the outhouse. He then drew a bucket up from the well and steeling himself against the temperature of the water, quickly sluiced his face and hands.

On returning to the kitchen he stood in the doorway, open-mouthed, at the site of JT pouring out three steaming cups of coffee clad in a brightly coloured chintz dressing gown.

JT laughed at Han's expression and held his arms out wide. "Rather stylish, don't you think? Now, shut that door and come and sit down. I trust you slept well?" He slid one of the cups across the table to the surprised young man.

"Uh... yessir, best night's sleep I've had in a long while."

"Good, you'll need it. You've got a busy day ahead of you today."

"I have?" Han quickly glanced over to see if Bella was looking before he discarded the blanket and reached for his henley and shirt which lay on the end of his bed. "Uh...doing what?"

"You're taking the old buckboard into Squaw Creek for supplies."

"By myself?"

"No. Both of us, of course," said Bella with a smile as she placed a plate of biscuits in front of him. Han smiled back.

"We need enough supplies to get us through the worst of the winter," elaborated JT. "Fergus — he runs the general store — he knows we are due back and always has some set aside ready. What he doesn't know is that this time we have another mouth to feed so Isabella, you will need to tell him how much more we will require. With some careful arranging it should all fit on the buckboard."

"Sure, Papa." Bella added honey and what was left of their butter to the limited fare on the table.

Feeling a little awkward Han reached into his breast pocket and pulled out his few remaining dollars. "You'd better have this, JT. I know it won't cover my keep but it's all I have right now. I'll make up what I owe you. I promise."

Tweedie waved the money away. "I wouldn't dream of taking your money, Hannibal. That wallet you pocketed yesterday contained a good amount, enough to pay for your keep with some left over. Here." He reached into one of his robe's large pockets and tossed a compact roll of dollar bills onto the table. "You take this, buy yourself a decent winter coat. You're going to need one out here even before the snow arrives."

Han's eyes widened as he picked up the money. "Thanks, JT. I guess I do need some warm clothes; it's mighty cold out there already. I sure won't be washing in water straight from that well again 'til spring." He shivered at the memory.

"While we're on the subject of washing... there's an old tin bath out there in the barn," said Bella. "As soon as we get back from town and put the horse up one of you can bring it in and put it in front of the fire. We're all in need of a bath after so long on the road."

"Huh! Speak for yourself, daughter. I, myself, am as fresh as a daisy," stated JT with a supercilious air, prompting a disparaging chuckle from the others.

ooooo-OOO-ooooo

A fire crackled in the grate, a coffee pot simmered aromatically on the stove and Hannibal Heyes lay back as far as he could soaking his aching muscles in the luxuriously warm water. As expected, he had been last in line for the bath but it was certainly worth the wait.

The trip to Squaw Creek and back had taken all day.

Han had harnessed the horse and driven the buckboard. He had loaded numerous boxes of canned goods, sacks of flour, oatmeal and beans as well as several small barrels of salt pork, salt beef and jars of sorghum molasses, a crate full of whiskey with which to make more tonic, not to mention feed for the horses, all by himself. Upon returning to the farm Josiah Tweedie had helped unload some but had mostly stood by, supervising.

Han glanced toward the small window noting the occasional snowflake that drifted past the uneven panes of glass. There had been a few flakes in the air since noon but he was confident that it was too early in the season for a heavy fall. Even the suggestion of snow had made him appreciate the warmth of the wool coat and scarf together with the soft deerskin gloves he had purchased with the money from JT.

It was, however, the onset of a biting easterly wind that had brought an unexpected bonus when Bella edged nearer to him on the buckboard's bench seat. Encouraged, Han had transferred the reins to one hand and slid his arm around her, resulting in her snuggling even closer for the whole of the return journey.

Hannibal Heyes smiled to himself. Being holed up here for the winter may have its advantages after all.


	11. Chapter 11

The weak early winter sun shone through the open door of the barn but cast no warmth on two shirtless boys.

A collection of raised voices barely penetrated the fighters' consciousness as they vied for a gap in the other's defences. Jedediah 'Kid' Curry concentrated on his goal and kept his eyes fixed firmly on his opponent. Ed was nimble, much lighter on his feet than Jack or Scrapper, so Jed had to be alert or he would be outmanoeuvred.

At last Ed made a move, jabbing with his right. Keeping his knees bent and his chin tucked in was now becoming second nature to Jed and he ducked his head out of reach while deftly aiming a quick counterpunch at the other boy's jaw. He made contact and a few of the watchers cheered. Ignoring the sudden stab of pain in his hand and wrist Jed jumped backwards easily blocking or staying out of reach of Ed's next few punches.

The daily run around the corral over the last few weeks had resulted in stronger legs as well as improving Jed's overall stamina and lung capacity. Although he didn't have a lot of muscle to show for his efforts, he was a lot fitter, the ritual with the sacks not making his arms feel quite so much like jelly any more.

Suddenly, Ed changed his approach which his opponent didn't read so well and a solid cross connected with the base of Jed's ribcage. Despite attempting to tighten his body he didn't quite get the timing right and the strike left him gasping for air. Ed now saw his opening and took full advantage, landing a quick hook to the side of the blond boy's head and knocking him to the ground.

Fox Flanagan had always stressed that it was the punch you didn't see coming which did the most damage and right then Jed agreed with him wholeheartedly.

"C'mon, Kid," he heard somebody yell through the buzzing in his ears. "Get up. Don't stay down there in the dirt!"

Jed twisted onto all fours in order to try and stand but the second he moved he felt dizzy and was sure he was going to be sick. All he was able to do was flop onto his back as his head continued to spin.

"Alright, that's enough," said Fox. "Who's next?"

Two pairs of hands pulled Jed along the ground until he was clear of the ring then the shouting resumed as Tom and Ben began sparring.

Jed felt someone encouraging him to sit up. He opened one eye to see Billy offering him a canteen. Without thinking Jed shook his head and instantly regretted it as the barn spun wildly.

"Real dizzy. Think I'm gonna be sick."

"Drink some water. The dizziness don't last — unless you're hurt real bad."

"What?!" Jed managed to gasp. "I could stay like this?"

Billy smiled. "Ed just caught ya on the side of the head. He don't hit hard."

Jed gave a derisory snort and mumbled, "Felt real hard to me."

"You'll feel better in a minute. Honest." All of a sudden, Billy's smile disappeared and he pushed the canteen into Jed's hands with greater urgency, whispering, "Mister Flanagan's lookin', Kid. C'mon, drink some water and try to stand up. He won't like it if you're sat here on the floor too long."

Hearing the fear in the other boy's voice Jed reluctantly took a few sips from the canteen and, with his friend for support, got to his feet. The barn still spun but not as bad as before so he took another drink and allowed Billy to help him over to join the others at the ringside.

When training was over for the day everyone trooped back to the farmhouse for their midday meal, all except Jed, who was pulled to one side by Fox Flanagan. Finding himself in the stall he had once occupied Jed wondered whether Fox was going to hit him for losing his fight today. With a growing feeling of trepidation he watched as the man silently rolled down his shirtsleeves and put on his long black coat.

Since that first time, Jed hadn't actually witnessed Fox strike Billy again but the boy occasionally displayed one or two unexplained bruises leading him to fear that the mistreatment was continuing. Billy's explanation for the abuse had made Jed's already simmering anger worse. Night after night he had lain awake staring at the ceiling, his eyes as hard as flint, promising himself that he would find a way to get back at this man for abducting him, for taking him away from Han and his new-found home. And, although Billy didn't know it yet, Jed had every intention of making sure the other boy came with him the day he finally made his escape.

"Sit down, Kid."

Keeping his eyes on Flanagan Jed lowered himself onto a straw bale. Approaching him, the man seized Jed's jaw. "Let me take a look at where he hit you."

Fox frowned as he examined the bruise that was starting to form just above Jed's temple. "Hmmm, get Trip to look at that, it might need a compress. Is the place still spinning?"

"No, sir."

"Good, but if you start feeling dizzy again or you're sick, tell Trip."

"Yessir."

Fox sat down alongside Jed. "So, Kid, how did your first knock-down feel?"

Jed took a moment to consider his answer before he said, "Bad," then added stoically, "But he ain't gonna do it again."

Fox grinned. "That's the right answer! It ain't pleasant but it happens to every fighter. You need to remember that you will always get dizzy when your head gets hit real hard. If you don't go down, your legs will probably feel strange like they're gonna give way beneath ya. You just have to stay calm and keep breathing. That way you have a good chance of staying on your feet. You've gotta remember, whatever happens don't hold your breath."

"Yessir, I'll remember that."

Fox reached into his pocket. "Can you read?" When the boy nodded he handed him a folded piece of paper.

Jed opened the flyer, it read:

 _FLANAGAN'S FIGHT NITE  
Saturday at Ringsters Ranch  
Try your luck against the Brawling Boys  
Cash Prizes  
All bets honoured  
Admission from 6pm $1.00_

Jed read it through twice then looked blankly at Fox.

"Another week and I figure you'll be ready to take to the ring for a real fight," said Fox. "We'll put you in and see how you do. You've mastered most of the moves now except for when that fast right hand of yours should throw the big punch. We're gonna work on that this week."

"But...but...I got knocked down today," Jed protested.

"Aw, Ed got lucky. He's quick alright but he don't always keep his mind on what he's doing. Lots of people are like that — they get distracted real easy. Watch for your opponent losing his concentration; it'll show in his eyes. In the meantime, what you need to figure out is how you gave him an opening to get that punch in. We'll do some more work on that too."

Fox chuckled at Jed's look of dismay.

"Don't worry, Kid, the sodbusters around here may be good at scrappin' in a saloon but in a ring...now, that's a different kinda fightin' altogether."

Swallowing hard, Jed remembered not to hold his breath. "Yessir," he choked out, his mouth suddenly dry.

ooooo-OOO-ooooo

The open jacket made an inviting target and bumping into the wearer was the simplest thing in the world. Slender fingers located the billfold and... he found his wrist held in a vice-like grip.

"Aw, Jeez!"

"Felt it again, Hannibal." JT plucked the billfold from Han's fingers and returned it to his pocket.

Han groaned. He had been working on the same manoeuvre, over and over again, every afternoon for the past week and couldn't understand how JT was still insisting he could feel when his fingers dipped inside the pocket.

"Isabella, again please." JT removed his jacket and held it out to the vexed youth who, in a show of irritation, forcefully thrust his arms into the sleeves.

"Oh, pardon me, sir," lisped Bella as she brushed against Han and walked on before turning around to present him with the billfold.

"Aaaarrgh!" Clenched knuckles ran through chestnut-brown hair.

"See, she barely touched you," explained JT. "Her fingers were already in the right position as she approached, like she was playing with a button on her gown. Your hand movements are still too big, Hannibal. They can be seen as well as felt."

Han tried to rein in his mounting frustration as he considered a new approach. "Okay, okay, let me try again."

Josiah Tweedie once more donned the jacket.

Deciding on a different ruse, this time Han staggered up to him as if he was drunk, almost falling into the flimflam man's arms. Playing his part JT tutted and indignantly pushed him away. Han staggered on, only to turn grinning from ear to ear and waving the wallet in the air.

"You did it!" laughed Bella, excitedly clapping her hands before flinging her arms around Han's neck and planting a noisy kiss on his lips.

Han joyfully picked her up and swung her round, "I sure did!"

With the sensation of her kiss still lingering, Han set down a breathless Bella and regarded her father carefully hoping that his daughter's impulsive behaviour wasn't going to get her into trouble, but Tweedie didn't appear to have noticed.

"That was very good, Hannibal, very good. I didn't feel a thing," complimented JT. "You must keep practicing, of course, but that drunken routine will suffice until you can master something a little more subtle. And master it, you will. I am sure of it."

Although the fare was humble, their meal that evening had a slightly festive air and JT even poured out a glass of Total Tonic for each of them to toast Han's success. After supper, JT went to his bedroom and returned with a pack of playing cards. "Care to partake in a little diversion, Hannibal?" he enquired as he sat down at the table and began to shuffle.

Han shook his head. "I don't know how, sir. Some of the boys back at the Home used to play a little poker but they had to be careful not to get caught or else they'd have got a real good lickin'. Gambling was against the rules, even if it was only for matches.

"I mostly kept to myself which was easy 'cause I like to read. The others got used to seeing me with a book so they stopped askin'. Reading kinda took me away from that place too — when I wasn't looking out for Jed, that is." He smiled to himself at the recollection. "That boy had the look of an angel but he was always getting into scrapes or, worse still, fighting. Fighting also got you a lickin'."

"You grew up in a Home?"

"The Valparaiso School for Waywards."

"I see." JT sat back in his chair. "Do you know, Hannibal, that's the most you've said about yourself all the time you've been with us?"

Feeling a little self-conscious at his sudden disclosure of personal information, Han averted his eyes.

"Anyway," continued JT lightly, "I think it may be wise for you to learn how to play poker, blackjack too. An intelligent gambler can make a good living, so long as he stays out of trouble."

"Trouble?"

"Well, some folks don't use the brains the good Lord gave them, especially when they play poker. They have no idea how to figure the odds as to whether they might have the winning hand. So, in order to ensure they win, they cheat. Now, cheating at a card table is a fool's game and something I wouldn't recommend unless you want to be staring down the barrel of a six-gun. Figuring out the odds shouldn't be too difficult for a smart fella like yourself. How are you with numbers?"

"Pretty good, I reckon."

JT raised an enquiring eyebrow. "So, do you want to play, m' boy? We've got a lot of winter evenings to get through and I've only got...oh, half a dozen books..."

Han grinned and tapped the table in front of him. "Deal me in."

"Me too." Bella sat down in her place having finished the dishes. "Women play poker too you know," she said defensively, in response to Han's look of surprise.

ooooo-OOO-ooooo

Jed had never known seven days go by so fast — too fast, in fact.

He had trained really hard all week and had faced each of the other boys at least once in practice bouts, so much so that his hands hurt and his wrists ached. But, no matter what Fox Flanagan said, he still did not feel prepared to take to the ring for a bona-fide fight.

The previous Saturday Trip had taken Billy and Ed into the nearest town where they pinned up as many fliers as they could, handed some out to passers-by and left a stack on the bar in the saloon. Whilst there they had also taken the opportunity to stock up with supplies for winter and the box wagon was eventually loaded high with sacks and boxes together with a couple of barrels of beer. A Fight Nite was not deemed to be a success if those attending couldn't buy a few beers.

Once the day of the Fight Nite had finally arrived the place was abuzz with activity. Colourful bunting was tacked across the front of the barn and inside a wide plank of wood was set across two large empty barrels in the entrance to one of the stalls to serve as a bar. Kerosene lamps, filled to capacity, were lined up all ready to be lit as soon as dusk fell and hung from hooks overhead. Two buckets of water with dippers hanging from their sides were brought in together with a bottle of whiskey and a large tub of lanolin.

In the centre of the barn four wooden posts had been hammered into the ground and two lengths of rope wrapped around them to form a more authentic-looking boxing ring. It was here that Fox Flanagan found Jed alone and shadow boxing later that afternoon.

"Come on in and get yourself something to eat, Kid."

At the sound of the man's voice Jed dropped his fists and climbed through the ropes. "I'm not hungry."

"You'll need all the energy you can muster. It's surprising how much your first fight can take out of you." Fox put his hand on Jed's shoulder and steered him out into the yard. "I know you don't feel hungry, but you're gonna eat anyway. It's alright to be nervous, Kid. Just remember your training and you will be fine."

Jed let out a shuddering breath which showed white in the rapidly cooling air.

A couple of hours later and the sound of harnesses and hooves coming down the track announced the arrival of a number of carriages, buckboards and riders on horseback. The boys ran out to tend to the animals while Fox Flanagan enthusiastically greeted the spectators and weighed up any prospective challengers. Trip took their money at the barn door and Biff poured beer into tin mugs for a nickel each.

Anticipation rippled through the crowd when, at last, the boys paraded in and stood in a line at the back of the barn. Fox Flanagan stepped into the ring holding his hands aloft to shush the spectators.

"Gentlemen, welcome! Thank you for coming to our Fight Nite. Tonight there will be two bouts featuring the Brawling Boys and then my lads will take on whoever would like to try their luck. There will be a cash prize for the winner of each challenger bout."

This last statement produced a cheer from the lively crowd.

"Many of you, I am sure, already know the rules but I will remind you all the same." There was a groan from a few of the spectators. "Each round will last until a man goes down. If that happens there will be a half a minute break until the start of the next round. The fighters then have a few seconds only in which to come to the scratch line. Here." He drew his foot through the dirt marking a line in the centre of the ring. "A man is only beat when he can't stand up no more or don't make back it to this line to continue the fight. There will be no biting. No gouging. No head-butting. And, no hitting below the coloured sash. Is that clear?!"

"Get on with it!" shouted a young farmhand, good naturedly. "We wanna win some money," he added waving a handful of dollar bills in the air, no doubt his hard-earned wages.

Fox grinned and beckoned to two of the boys. "Okay, okay! Our first bout is between Tom in the red sash and Ed, who'll be wearing the blue. My man over there will take your bets," he said, indicating Trip who was now standing on an overturned bucket holding a handful of scraps of paper and a pencil.

Once all bets were placed the crowd's attention was once again on the ring. Fox stood with his feet either side of the scratch line, a hand on each of Tom and Ed's shoulders as they faced each other.

"Is everybody ready?!" he shouted, quickly looking over at Trip who looked back at him pointedly scratching his head before stepping down from the bucket.

There was a resounding cheer from the crowd.

Fox firmly squeezed Tom's shoulder before taking a step back and barking, "Fight!"

Jed was disappointed that, from where he stood, there were too many bodies in the way for him to see the fight but, from the shouts and jeers of the crowd, it appeared that Ed was getting the better of Tom. While he was pleased that Fox hadn't put him in first Jed had a feeling lurking in the pit of his stomach that he was not going to be fighting any of the other boys. He was sure that his bout would be against one of the challengers and his eyes nervously searched the crowd for likely opponents.

After about five minutes Ed launched a combination of punches which floored Tom. Fox stopped the fight and both boys were given some water. Tom staggered to his feet shaking his head and after the requisite thirty seconds the two boys faced each other again at the scratch line. At Fox's cry of "Fight!" they continued their bout. This round ended when Tom landed a few well-chosen body-blows and Ed collapsed to his knees, winded.

Thirty seconds later they resumed. Ed was a little unsteady on his feet and still breathing heavily, so Tom began dancing around his weakened opponent, throwing the odd punch and looking every part the victor until, without warning Ed threw a hook, rather like the one he had laid Jed out with the other day, and Tom hit the dirt. Ed's limited number of supporters cheered enthusiastically while everyone waited to see if Tom would get up. When it appeared unlikely to happen any time soon, Fox Flanagan grasped Ed's wrist and held his arm aloft declaring him the winner.

"There will be a short recess for you gentlemen to get some refreshment and to claim your winnings," declared Fox to a crowd who, for the most part, appeared to be a little aggrieved that they had lost their bets.

Meanwhile, Biff dragged Tom out of the ring and sat him up against the wall of the barn. Jed and the other boys crowded round watching anxiously until Tom slowly opened his eyes.

Ed crouched down beside him. "Sorry, Tom. Didn't mean to hit ya so hard," he whispered.

"Nuthin' I can't handle," replied the groggy youth.

Ed had just begun to grumble, "Guess it'll be my turn next t—" when Fox Flanagan appeared, loudly announcing, "Jack. Scrapper. You're up next." Grasping each boy by the back of the neck he added in an undertone, "Keep your wits about you, now. I don't want another shambles like the last time, y' hear?"

"Yessir," they mumbled and entered the ring.

The fight lasted for four rounds, the eventual victor being Jack; a result the crowd seemed a little more content with.

Jed was just beginning to enjoy the atmosphere when Flanagan announced that it was now time for anyone who fancied their chances to step up and declare their intention to challenge one of his fighters. A group of young farmhands had been goading each other to volunteer right from the start and he was therefore not surprised to see three of them step forward. Fox shook each man firmly by the hand all the while appraising their possible abilities with a professional eye.

He chose a short, stocky, ginger-haired fellow by the name of Jarvis Toof to go first. Then, he beckoned to his new recruit. Jed's heart skipped a beat and he took a deep breath. Trying to look confident he climbed into the ring.

"This will be the first of our challenger bouts between young 'Red' here, " Fox announced to a mixture of cat-calls and cheers while he slapped Jarvis good-naturedly on the back, "and our new young fighter, Kid Curry."

While they tied on their coloured sashes Jarvis looked the blond, blue-eyed boy up and down and grinned confidently before turning to his friends and raising his arms as if he was already the winner.

"Are you ready? Good luck, gentlemen. Fight!"

Jed was on his toes straight from the off and just managed to move out of the way as Jarvis opened with a quick early right. Then they circled each other; Jed doing exactly as he had been taught, keeping his guard up while sizing up the young farmhand, and Jarvis launching random punches, none of which made an impact.

Eventually Jed threw a left but it was easily blocked by the larger man who quickly countered it, making contact with a cheekbone. Jed took a couple of steps backward but didn't go down. With his ears buzzing he tried to concentrate but was hit again and sat down heavily in the dirt.

Fox brought the round to a halt and pulled Jed back to the ropes asking testily, "Are you ever gonna hit him, Kid?! He's given you enough openings. You should be able to spot them by now."

Jed swallowed a mouthful of water, nodded solemnly and made his way again to the scratch line.

The second round began in much the same way as the first until Jed saw one of the openings that Fox had mentioned. Each time Jarvis led with his right, his left hand dropped just enough to leave his head unguarded. When Jarvis next did this Jed was ready and directed a right hook to the side of his head. Jarvis dropped to the floor and was about to stagger to his feet when Fox called a halt.

Sitting against the ropes, sipping some water, Jed could feel one of the blows to his right cheekbone starting to swell and he hoped his eye wasn't going to start to close up in the same way he'd seen Tom's do. As he stood up, he took a few deep breaths and tried to focus all his attention on Jarvis.

"This is gonna be the last round, kid." Jarvis glared at Jed as they once more circled each other. "You ain't gonna sucker punch me again you baby-faced whelp."

Just the mention of the word 'baby' and Jed could feel the anger that he had tried so hard to control, start to bubble up. As he dodged the man's random jabs even his stratagem of trying to think about candy didn't seem to be working; too many things were assailing his senses at once right now — the dust, the pain, the noise of the crowd, not to mention the sneering face of his opponent.

Seeing Jed screw up his eyes as he tried hard to focus on what he should be doing, Jarvis pouted, "Oh no, don't tell me the mamma's-boy is gonna cry."

That was all it took.

Rage almost blinding him, Jed rained a barrage of punches on Jarvis taking him completely by surprise before launching a ferocious right hook to the side of his head. Jarvis Toof dropped like a stone. When he didn't get up Fox raised Jed's arm declaring him the winner.

"Good work, Kid," smiled Fox as he escorted Jed from the ring. "You go get cleaned up."

Still breathing heavily Jedediah Curry had only just sank down onto a pile of straw when Billy appeared at his side with a bucket of water and a cloth. "That musta been some punch. He's still out cold!" he exclaimed. "They've had to take him outside to the trough to bring him round."

Jed flinched as Billy pressed the cool, water-soaked cloth against his cheek. Prodding the inside of his mouth with his tongue he groaned at the salty taste.

"Your cheek ain't split, on the outside anyways," Billy reassured him. "You taste blood?"

"A little." He spat into the straw.

Billy continued, "I'm guessin' nearly every bet was on that other fella to win so Mister Flanagan will have made a real killing." Whist he was pleased for his friend Billy couldn't help but add, bleakly, "I guess _you_ won't be gettin' punched anytime soon."

"You ain't had to fight today so neither will you," Jed replied smiling faintly. He then looked down at his hands. All his knuckles appeared to be bleeding and his right hand hurt like a mule had stood on it for a week.

Billy followed his gaze. "Sore, huh? Put them in there." He indicated the bucket. "I'll be back."

Jed dipped both his hands in the cold water and in a few seconds Billy returned with the whiskey and lanolin. Pulling Jed's hands from the water he proceeded to pour some of the whiskey over his split knuckles inducing a sharp hiss as the alcohol made contact with raw flesh. Jed took some slow, deep breaths as Billy smeared lanolin over the open wounds.

"Ya look a bit pale, Kid."

"Can you help me to the door, Billy? I think I need some air."

As he stood at the open barn door an icy gust of wind came from the east and Jed looked up toward the sky to see a few tiny snowflakes begin to fall.


	12. Chapter 12

The winter had been long and cold, but not as perilous as some. There had been times when the snow drifted — reaching almost six feet in height — necessitating the running of rope lines to the water source, the barn and the outhouse to ensure that nobody got lost in the swirling snow. Lives had been lost but their numbers were few and many farmers were relieved to find that they retained a good proportion of their livestock from last year.

After the wide-open spaces of the prairie with only the sound of the wind for company, many found the bustle and clamour of Trail Town to be a veritable assault on the senses as activity once more began in earnest and businesses started to make money again.

Yard upon yard of stockyard fencing, cattle pens and ramps were repaired or new ones built, and even the railroad station's offices were given a fresh lick of paint or whitewash. Roads previously unpassable due to the snow and the subsequent melt were now navigable and wagons came and went from all directions bringing people from outlying farmsteads to replenish their sorely depleted supplies.

Frank Collier was an experienced lawman and had been responsible for law and order in this cowtown for a number of years. He always made a point of recalling all his deputies as well as enlisting a few extra in anticipation of the number of cowhands invading the town during the droving season. Evenings could get a little lively once a herd was in and, as a result, he expected his jail to be full to capacity at least once a month.

The first herd wasn't due for over six weeks but the arrival of the carnival made him increase his vigilance. While the townsfolk enjoyed the variety of stalls, amusements and entertainment on offer there was always an element of trouble to be dealt with. This usually took the form of theft, but occasionally, he or his deputies were called upon to settle a dispute between stallholders over the rights to a certain pitch.

As the sheriff strolled along the main street he couldn't help but congratulate himself for having persuaded the owner of the livery stable — at a price, of course — to give up a barn, together with two large fields on the outskirts of town, in which to accommodate the carnival and it was to these fields that all the participants were now being directed. It hadn't taken long before the site was a hive of activity. In one field, booths, kiosks and tents were erected, the other being used by the stallholders and performers to erect their own makeshift living quarters.

At the other end of town, as far as you could go down main street, was a barn and this is where one of the main attractions of the carnival would take place. Every year Flanagan's Fighters took on all-comers and it was here that, loaded with bravado and often a good quantity of liquor, many young farmhands ended up nursing black eyes and cut lips after tangling with the trained boxers. The sheriff almost welcomed this particular sideshow; it saved him from having to break up the inevitable saloon or street brawl and cart the liquored-up combatants off for a night in a cell.

Outside the feed and grain store Collier leaned against a post on the end of the boardwalk and watched a couple of men set up the ring inside the barn while two boys, also from Flanagan's team, fastened a string of red, white and blue bunting across the doorway. A large poster advertised an exciting new fighter by the name of Kid Curry.

Hammer in hand, Jedediah Curry climbed down from the ladder and, with a sigh, stepped back to look dubiously at the poster his friend had just nailed to the barn wall.

"Sheesh! Don't know as I can live up to that, Billy."

"You're good, Kid. You'll win," Billy assured him.

Jed quickly glanced around then moved to stand next to his friend. He leaned in close. "Maybe, but I ain't plannin' on staying around much longer."

"You gonna run?"

"Uh-uh, my cousin and me we did that once and it didn't work out too good. Ended up near starvin' to death. No, I gotta win a few fights and get some prize money, then we can go."

" _We?!_ "

"Shhhh, keep your voice down. Yes, of course, _'we'_. You didn't think I would take off and leave you here with _him_ did you?"

"We're gonna have to be real careful."

"We will be. You're with me though, ain'tcha?"

Billy muttered, "I guess."

Trying to think what his cousin would do in the circumstances, Jed said more confidently than he felt, "I'll get a plan together. It'll be okay. Don't you go tellin' anyone though, y' hear."

Billy shook his head but a deep-seated fear showed in his eyes. "It had better be a good plan, Kid, 'cause if we're caught Mister Flanagan might kill us."

ooooo-OOO-ooooo

It was getting late when the medicine wagon rumbled through the open gate and JT steered the horses along the rutted, muddy track until he found a suitable pitch. Hannibal Heyes surveyed the collection of large tents and wagons already assembled and his eyes shone. The next few days were going to be exciting, not to mention profitable, he was sure of it.

On the way to Trail Town they had stopped in Squaw Creek to pick up supplies and buy two small tents, one for Han and JT, and one for Bella. JT had then spent a goodly portion of the journey there explaining how the carnival system worked in general, and especially in this town. He explained that here the town's officials had declared that nobody was permitted to bed down on the carnival field itself, a separate field being provided for this purpose alone and meaning that JT and Bella would not be able to use the wagon for their accommodation.

While Han was not thrilled at the idea of bunking with JT it would be better than sleeping underneath the wagon again. Also, if he was really lucky, he might have an opportunity to sneak across to Bella's tent once JT was asleep.

Over the last few months Han and Bella had, on numerous occasions, found themselves alone — something Han felt wasn't entirely accidental on Bella's part — and their relationship had begun to blossom into a little more than just friendship. He wasn't sure however, whether JT was aware of these trysts but, the man hadn't threatened him or warned him off — yet.

Despite the dark winter days the three had been busy. Bella had brewed up a huge batch of herbal infusion and she and JT had used every single bottle from the crate of whiskey to concoct copious amounts of Tweedie's Total Tonic, labelling the bottles and packing them away carefully padded with raw wool so they wouldn't shatter during their speedy exits.

Han, in the meantime, fashioned more picks out of any small piece of metal he could find. He then practiced constantly on a number of rusting door locks and padlocks that JT had produced from an old trunk in the barn until he could open them all in seconds. His pick-pocketing skills had also come on in leaps and bounds as had his prowess at poker. It appeared he had something of an aptitude for cards — a God-given talent JT had called it — and he was looking forward to taking on some seasoned players for real money instead of matches in the very near future.

Having taken possession of their pitch and settled the horses, Han and JT carried the canvas and poles to the adjacent field while Bella brought the few personal belongings that they would need overnight. Once the tents were erected, mostly by Han with extensive instructions from JT, it was almost dark and rather than use their precious supplies they made their way to Trail Town's main street in order to get something to eat.

The cafe they chose was so popular that they had to stand outside until a table became available but their fried chicken supper was certainly worth the wait.

Josiah Tweedie stopped to light a small cigar as he stepped out onto the boardwalk. "Well, children, I am off to the saloon for a pony or two of whiskey before I turn in," he announced with a sated sigh. "Han, I trust you will look after my lovely Isabella?"

"Yessir, I won't let her out of my sight," confirmed Han, taking Bella's hand in his and squeezing it tight.

"Good. We have a busy day ahead of us tomorrow so don't stay up too late."

"No, sir, but I think we might need a short walk. That sure was a lot of chicken for a half dollar!"

With a grin JT patted his bulging stomach before crossing the street to the Ranahan Saloon.

Han and Bella strolled along the main street stopping now and then to look at the goods in a store window. The further up the boardwalk they got the fewer the lamps and by the time they reached the feed and grain store there was only the faint silver light of the new moon to see by. Noticing the barn in front of them Han pulled Bella toward a side door where he proceeded to pick the padlock and let them into the dark interior. Feeling along the wall to the side of the door his hand knocked into something metal, eliciting a dimpled smile. His fingers searched his pockets for a match and soon the small kerosene lamp began to glow.

"C'mon, let's go up there," he said, holding the lamp high and pointing at the ladder to the hayloft.

Having hung the lamp on a nail and turning it down as low as it would go Han knelt on the soft, sweet-smelling hay and pulled Bella down to lay beside him. This was the first time they had been alone without the risk of being discovered by JT and his rampant adolescent hormones intended to make the most of it.

Bella untied her hair ribbon letting her dark curls hang loose while Han rained tender kisses over her face and neck before claiming her mouth with a little more urgency.

"Why, Hannibal Heyes, what would Papa say?" Bella exclaimed when they finally came up for air, her eyes widening in mock innocence.

From where he was attempting to undo the buttons on her blouse Han shifted his focus back to her face his dark brown, now almost black, eyes suddenly uncertain. Bella read the look and giggled before initiating a long, deep kiss of her own.

Giving up on the buttons, breathing heavily and with his heart racing, Han reached down and bunched her skirts in his fist. He then stopped, suddenly alert.

"I was only joking about Papa!" protested Bella.

"Shhh, someone's outside." Han leapt to his feet and doused the lamp just as the side door opened and the glow from another illuminated the barn's interior.

"Who left that door open?"

"I'll swear, it was locked when I left."

"You'd better not leave the wagon unlocked or that boy'll be away."

"He ain't goin' nowhere now he's back in those irons. Anyways, I got someone keepin' an eye on the wagon day and night."

"As long as you don't leave Billy there on his own. I don't trust him. Our potential money-maker might be figuring on taking off back to Serenity the moment our backs are turned and I don't have a mind to lose him."

At the mention of Serenity Han's thudding heart missed a beat and he crawled silently to the edge of the hayloft.

A man in a long black coat and a black derby leant against one of the stalls. "Check that everything is set up right, Trip." He took out a pocketknife and ran the blade under his nails while the other man tested that each of the poles was secure in the ground and the ropes tightly wrapped around them.

"It all looks good, boss."

"Good, now I can start making some real money outta that boy."

Han waited in the dark until he heard the door close and the footsteps fade into the distance before he relit their lamp. "Did you hear that?!" he exclaimed, his amorous intentions forgotten.

Bella looked at him blankly.

"He mentioned Serenity. That's where we was when Jed went missing. That boy they spoke about, it's Jed, I know it." He pulled Bella to her feet and grabbed the lamp. "C'mon, I gotta see where they're headed."

Bella was about to protest as Han started down to the ground but followed quickly as the light she needed in order to safely negotiate the ladder began to disappear toward the door. Han tried the door but it only opened a fraction.

"Dammit! They must have closed the padlock. We're locked in!"

Ignoring Han's oath Bella purred, "Is that such a bad thing?"

Han frowned. "Uh, yeah. First of all, if we can't get out I can't follow those two and second, what's your Pa gonna think when he gets back to the tents and we're not there, never mind when we're still not back come morning." Running his hands through his dishevelled hair he wailed, "Aaww, he's gonna _kill_ me!"

"No, he won't. Papa likes you, Han."

"Not when he figures what I was likely gonna do with his daughter, he won't. I gotta think."

After about five minutes of agitated pacing, he headed back to the ladder.

"Where are you going?"

"There should be a hay door up here." Han started to climb. "That won't be locked."

Within a few minutes he had located the bale-sized door. "Look, there's a ring for a pulley up here. Now all we need is some rope."

They both scoured the hay strewn floor as best they could in the low light until Bella's foot caught in something and she triumphantly uncovered a coil of rope. Quickly Han began to thread the rope through the ring and tied a solid half-hitch before opening the hay door and using the latch to secure it. He peered dubiously at the drop.

"Okay, let's hope this don't fall too short," he said. Then, gripping the rope he swung out into the moonlight.

Bella held her breath as she watched Han climb down. There was a dull thud as he dropped to the ground and, hoping he hadn't hurt himself, she returned to the side door where she was relieved to hear a faint click and a whispered, "The door's open. Douse the lamp."

ooooo-OOO-ooooo

The possibility of finding his cousin foremost in his mind meant that sleep had eluded Hannibal Heyes for a good part of the night. Trying to lay still so that he wouldn't wake JT had only added to his growing sense of agitation so that, as soon as dawn began to break, he crawled out of the tent.

The early spring morning air still held a chill and as he shrugged on his coat he looked about him at the other tents and wagons wondering if Jed might be in one of them.

Sleepy-eyed, Bella peered out of her tent. "What are you doing standing out there? You want to come in here for a little while? It's warm."

Han gave a low chuckle. "I bet it is, but I'm gonna go get us some water. I won't be long."

Ignoring Bella's vexed pout, he grabbed a bucket and headed for the line of people which was already forming at the well. As he waited to take his turn Han observed about half a dozen boys and a couple of men running together in a group some distance away but by the time he had filled his bucket they had disappeared.

The carnival field was crowded. People from far and wide had come to see the sword swallowers and fire breathers as well as take part in shooting competitions and watch the magic lantern show or belly dancers. They also had their pick of stalls selling everything from candy to snake oil, or buy snacks such as peanuts and popcorn from wandering vendors.

JT had thought it best that he alone should sell Tweedie's Total Tonic while Han and Bella wandered separately through the crowd dipping into unguarded pockets as they went. Both pick pockets were under strict instructions to be selective. The sheriff had stepped into the saloon last night, albeit briefly, but JT already had a feeling he was on the alert and would make sure the law's presence was felt in the carnival field. Too many people losing their wallets or money rolls and the whole operation would be under threat, so only the most affluent-looking were to be targeted.

Han hadn't breathed a word to Tweedie about Jed yet. He had decided to wait until he was certain and he intended to go to the fight tonight to see if he was right. One thing was for sure, they weren't going to let Jed just walk away so Han needed to plan an escape that they could both take and, as much as it pained him to think of it, this would mean leaving JT and Bella.

Trying to keep his mind on the task at hand was proving difficult and by mid-afternoon Han had only managed to steal three wallets. When they all met up later that afternoon Bella took over the running of the medicine show while JT insisted that Han join him in the wagon to present his contribution. Knowing the flimflam man would be disappointed with his paltry take Han looked a little shamefaced as he tossed three billfolds onto a bunk.

"Is that all you managed to lift? Three wallets, no watches?" Tweedie had expected better from his new prospect.

"Yeah, I know it's not much. I..." Han sat down with a heartfelt sigh.

"Okay, Hannibal, something is obviously bothering you. You having second thoughts about robbing folk?"

"No, picking pockets don't bother me. I've just got a lot on my mind is all."

Josiah Tweedie regarded Han with concern. "You were fine yesterday so something must have happened. Come on, tell me."

"I...uh." Han didn't know where to start. He shook his head. "You ain't gonna like it."

"You don't know that until you tell me."

Han finally took a deep breath and explained about the conversation between the two men in the barn.

"Hmmm," said JT thoughtfully. "You do realize that once you have Jed you will have to leave town, and quickly."

"Yessir, I'm afraid that's exactly what it means."

"How do you propose to get out of town and, more to the point, where will you head? Back to Serenity?"

"No, they might come looking for Jed there." Han smiled ruefully. "I guess I haven't figured it all out yet."

"Alright, leave it with me, m' boy. I'll give it some thought. We'll talk again."

"You ain't mad at me, JT? After you've done all that teachin'?"

"Of course I'll be disappointed if you don't stay with us," replied JT, placing a reassuring hand on Han's shoulder, "But Hannibal, you are young and you have to tread your own path in this life. I've given you some alternative... let's call them 'career options' so that you can choose which path to follow and if you prefer to tread it with your cousin instead of Bella and me, then so be it. Now, off you go. Oh, and try and lift some more wallets while you are still here, eh."

"Yessir, and thank you."

JT smiled and turned to exit the wagon but the smile quickly faded as he recalled something Han had said. Turning back he asked, "Just one question... what exactly were you and my daughter doing in the barn?"

ooooo-OOO-ooooo

Raucous voices accompanied the lamplight that spilled out onto the main street.

Hannibal Heyes shifted from foot to foot as he waited in eager anticipation by the large barn door where earlier he had barely managed to stop himself from gasping out loud as the name Curry virtually screamed to him from a poster on the wall. Handing over his entrance fee he threaded his way through the press of excited spectators and plungers just as the proceedings began.

Despite being tall for his age, from where he stood Han could only see the fighters when the people in front of him moved their heads, but none of them were Jed.

A familiar figure in a long black coat oversaw the proceedings and Han also found himself watching him as well as the man called Trip who was busy taking the bets. Having studied them for a while he became aware of a number of furtive signals being exchanged and was thankful that he hadn't been tempted to wager any money.

Eventually, there was an announcement that the time had come for the boys to take on all-comers. This was when a new fighter by the name of Kid Curry was introduced and Han finally caught a glimpse of a head of unruly, blond curls.

The minute the boy turned he felt his stomach lurch. It was Jed. He'd found him.

His cousin looked taller, stronger and, much to Han's surprise, displayed the bearing of a fighter. He tried to call out to him but his voice was drowned out amid the cheers and jeers from the enthusiastic spectators for both Jed and his young farmhand opponent.

Once the fight commenced Han was still unable to clearly see what was happening but the reactions of the crowd gave him a clue. The local boy appeared to be the favourite and each time he landed a punch they cheered. After two gruelling rounds Jed finally managed to launch a ferocious punch and dazed, his opponent staggered backward to the ropes. Most of the crowd, especially those who had a wager on the man, held its breath while waiting to see if he would recover and in the relative quiet Han saw his chance and yelled "Jed!"

Jed Curry watched as the man struggled in vain to pull himself together, that was until a familiar voice calling a now not-so-familiar name penetrated his concentration. Looking around he turned a full circle to try to ascertain exactly where the voice was coming from.

Then everything seemed to happen really fast.

For a fleeting moment Jed thought he recognized a face in the crowd. That was until a fist slammed into his face and everything went black.


	13. Chapter 13

Aghast, Han watched the blond head snap back and his cousin fall. He then silently berated himself as he realized that his shout was ill-timed and had probably been the boy's undoing.

Fox Flanagan had no choice but to call an end to the bout and to the crowd's delight, most of whom had bet on the farmhand, held up the arm of the winner. He smiled but his eyes betrayed a fury.

Unconscious and bleeding Jed was pulled out of the ring. Billy immediately rushed over with his bucket to dip a cloth into the cool water and hold it against the bridge of the injured boy's nose.

"Kid. Kid, c'mon wake up!" He tapped Jed's face.

"Outta my way," snarled Fox as he elbowed Billy to one side and delivered a slap of his own to Jed's cheek, but eliciting no response. "He's out cold." Turning to Trip, he said, "Best go and pay out on those bets, then lock him in the wagon. Scrapper can take the wagers for the next bout. I'll deal with _him_ later."

Billy's mouth suddenly went dry but in his friend's defence he still managed to croak, "It weren't his fault, Mister Flanagan, sir. I think he got distracted." Ignoring him Flanagan strode back into the ring to announce the next fight.

Meanwhile, Han was pushing his way to where they had dragged his cousin but the number of unyielding bodies in his way made progress virtually impossible. He eventually caught a glimpse of Trip with Jed dripping blood and slung over his shoulder, exit the building. Desperate to follow, Han almost started a fight of his own as he frantically elbowed his way to the rear door only to stare out into the darkness.

Unable to determine where the man had gone he turned back and his eyes caught those of Billy still gripping the handle of his bucket.

"Hey you! That man, where did he take Jed?"

Billy wanted to answer but he had already spoken out of turn to Mister Flanagan and didn't want to add to his inevitable punishment by being caught talking to a stranger, especially someone who knew the Kid's real name, so he shook his head.

Resisting the temptation to seize the boy by the shoulders and shake the information from him Han moved closer and hissed, "Look, I know you know where he is. You gotta tell me!"

Billy's eyes flickered nervously back and forth for a moment then he mumbled, "Out back. A track runs past a stand of cottonwoods. He's there, in a wagon." Han sprinted through the rear door.

Despite his desire to help Jed he knew that it would be stupid to go alone so he headed back to the main street to look for JT. What Han didn't know was that Josiah Tweedie had been making some enquiries of his own.

From the minute Han had told him the news JT knew that the best prospect he'd had in years was about to walk away but, for a reason he couldn't quite explain, he still had a desire to see him set up for the future. There was something about Hannibal Heyes that compelled people to like him and, JT was sure, to do his bidding. He would probably end up a leader of men; what kind of men...well... as a betting man he didn't want to speculate.

Starting at the Wells Fargo office he had been reliably informed that there wouldn't be a stage out of town for another three days and that the railroad's passenger service only stopped at Trail Town once a week. Unfortunately, that stop had had been made only yesterday. His spirits were lifted considerably, however, by the young clerk's throw-away remark that a freight train was due to pass through at eleven o'clock tomorrow night on its way to Colorado.

He then decided to send a telegraph. It said...

 _To: Mister O'Sullivan  
75 Tremont Place  
Denver  
Colorado_

 _Are you still prospecting? Have something of value. Urgent you reply.  
Tweedie_

After informing the clerk in the telegraph office that he would be in the Ranahan Saloon for the next hour or two he settled into a seat at one of the poker tables which is where Han eventually found him.

One look at the breathless youth as he burst through the batwing doors was enough for JT to throw in his mediocre hand and extricate himself from the game so that they could talk. Signalling to the bartender he took Han by the elbow and drew him to the quiet end of the bar.

"You found him?"

"Yep, but he's hurt. He could be hurt real bad," panted Han.

JT pushed a brimming glass of whiskey toward him. "Here, take a drink."

Han took a larger gulp than he had intended and almost choked as the fiery liquid hit the back of his throat. Eyes watering, he rasped, "They've taken him to a wagon somewhere near the barn. I need you to come with me. We have to get him outta there."

"Just slow down a minute, m' boy. We can't do anything tonight."

"But..."

"Now would _not_ be the best time."

"Yes, it would! He was out cold and bleeding, and it's all my fault. I have to help him." Han was frantic.

"Hannibal, listen to me. Take a breath," JT said, firmly. "No successful plan was ever devised in an agitated brain. You need to calm down and think clearly. Now breathe."

As instructed, Han took a deep breath and tried his best to let it out slowly. While he did this JT continued, "Just take a moment. Say we were to go bludgeoning in there tonight and free Jed; once you have him what will you do then? You can't hide him and if he's injured your progress away from here would be slow. From what I hear those fellas are real nasty and they would be sure to catch up with you."

"But..."

"All you would succeed in doing is getting yourself and possibly your cousin killed. Now, if like you say he is incapacitated, it's not likely that he will be fighting tomorrow. This means we have the luxury of almost twenty-four hours in which to formulate an effective strategy."

Han had just opened his mouth to protest again when a man sporting a green visor and sleeve protectors entered the saloon and walked swiftly over to them.

"Got an answer to your telegraph, mister."

"Wonderful! I appreciate you bringing it over." JT handed the man a coin as he took the small envelope. Opening it he read...

 _To: Josiah Tweedie  
Trail Town  
Missouri _

_Always on the lookout. Send soonest.  
Silky_

JT gave a contented sigh. "Aaah, it's always gratifying to get the news you want."

Still agitated, Han shot him a hard look. "Gee, I'm real pleased for ya, JT," he said acidly. "But, could we at least go see if we can find this wagon?!"

ooooo-OOO-ooooo

When he had first regained consciousness Jed's initial thought had been to wonder just how mad Flanagan would be. He was all too aware that he had screwed up, had probably cost his boss a lot of money by taking his eyes off his opponent and losing a fight he was already winning, and for what? The shout of a name which might have been his, by someone who may have resembled his cousin?

Later, once again restrained by leg irons in the darkness of the wagon, Jed slowly swallowed the water which was being carefully tipped into his mouth. His jaw was swollen, his head throbbed and, for the second time that night, the steady trickle of blood from his nose had only just begun to slow. He wanted to thank whoever was helping him but right now his ribs and belly hurt so much that every breath was an effort.

Fox Flanagan's retribution had been brutal. Every rebuke, every oath and command had been reinforced with a blow until Jed lay groaning at his feet.

His head was gently lifted and something placed under it. A rough blanket covered his aching body. "Try and sleep, Kid," whispered Billy. "It won't feel so bad come mornin'." Jed didn't believe him but he appreciated his friend's attempt to make him feel better. A stab of anxiety still gripped him at the change in Billy's voice as he added, "I gotta go now. Mister Flanagan's waitin' outside."

Now that he had experienced the abuse at first hand, Jed knew one thing for sure; he wasn't going to stay any longer and risk another beating like this one. He would rather steal, or even starve. Realizing that his plan to take off with his prize money was not now going to happen, he began toying with the idea of stealing a horse. Jed was aware that the ultimate penalty for horse stealing was lynching and was the main reason he had previously dismissed this option. It was also that he had not felt quite desperate enough, until now.

Despite his hearing being a little muffled he was still cognizant of Trip's voice from outside the wagon. "Hey, what was that?" The query was followed by the sound of a rifle being cocked. "Who's out there?"

When there was no reply to the question Jed heard Flanagan order, "Go see who it is." Louder now, "Jump to it, Billy. You ain't hurt bad, now get up and go look!"

A few minutes later Jed heard his friend's strained delivery, "I went all the way round the trees and down the track some. Ain't nobody there, sir."

Billy hoped that Flanagan would not realize he was lying. He had, in fact, seen two figures disappearing down the track. A man in a top hat and another he thought might be the youth who had questioned him about Kid.

The bolt rasped loudly as it slid across the door and Jed heard the large padlock click just before he slipped into oblivion once more.

ooooo-OOO-ooooo

Han and JT sat up late into the night while JT revealed his plan and now Han was finding it hard to think about anything else. He spent the whole of the following day in a state of restlessness. His intense and lively mind going over every single detail until he was sure it would drive him crazy.

He was also not looking forward to saying goodbye, especially to Bella. It seemed to Han as if had been saying goodbye one way or another all of his life, and he had only turned sixteen a couple of months back.

Josiah Tweedie had been good to him. He had fed and clothed him, taught him new skills and although Han wanted to feel that the flimflam man had done this out of the goodness of his heart, deep down he knew better — he just chose to ignore it. Aware that JT expected to claim almost every dollar of each take he brought in, as well as reap the benefits from the opportunities his lock-picking skills would have opened up, Han had been willing to go along with all this until the time came when he felt he should go it alone or, more importantly, when he was reunited with Jed.

The sun's rays were slanting low across the carnival field as Han, JT and Bella packed up the wagon for the last time. Knowing that they must leave Trail Town that night they hitched up the pair of greys before all daylight was lost and stowed the tent poles and canvas in the box under the wagon's seat. JT then jumped aboard and drove out of the field and down the main street, coming to a stop at the rear of the feed and grain store.

Han and Bella stared after the wagon as it rumbled out of sight. Tightly clasping hands they followed at a discreet distance intending to meet up with JT at the cafe where the three planned to take their last meal together.

Bella had been blinking back tears from the moment her father had given her the news of Han's departure. It had never been her intention to fall in love with him. All her father had wanted was for her to kindle the boy's interest in order to encourage him to stay but Han's sweet way and endearing smile had worked their way into her heart. The odds against him actually finding his cousin had seemed too great and so she had put the possibility of this scenario right out of her mind.

Suddenly unable to bear the thought of him leaving she pulled Han into the dark shadows of an alleyway, threw her arms around his neck and kissed him.

Han enjoyed the kiss for a few seconds then pulled away. "Whoa! What was that for?"

"Don't go," she said, hugging him fiercely.

"Aww, Bella." He crooked a finger under her chin tilting her face up, his eyes meeting hers. Recognizing the unshed tears, the prickle of which he was beginning to feel in his own eyes, he gently kissed her lips. "I'm sorry, sweetheart, but I have to."

"Couldn't Jed come with us? We can get out of town real fast, you know what a lick Papa can make those horses go."

"Uh-uh. There's a strong possibility we could run into this boxing troupe again. If Jed and I stayed they would know that you helped him get away and that could get us all killed. I can't risk that, Bella. I wouldn't be able to forgive myself if something happened to you." He pulled her to him and she snuggled into the coarse fabric of his coat. "No. Me and Jed have got to head as far away from here as we can. Your Pa sent a telegraph to a Mister O'Sullivan in Denver and we're gonna go work for him for a while."

"Yes, Uncle Silky. He told me."

"Well then, sounds like there's a good chance we'll see each other again, doesn't it?"

She sniffed. "I guess."

Han kissed her once more then smiled softly. "C'mon, your Pa will be waiting."

ooooo-OOO-ooooo

Supper was a quiet affair. Bella felt too upset to eat, and Han and JT too keyed up to do the meal justice. They lingered over half eaten plates of food for as long as they could then ordered coffee which they drank equally as slowly.

Voices drifted down the street reaching their ears the minute they stepped out onto the boardwalk and confirming that the barn was crowded and the boxing in full swing. At the alleyway before the barn JT nodded and the three set off in different directions.

The two horses had stood patiently behind the feed and grain store for the past couple of hours. With the incentive of earning a whole silver dollar apiece JT had persuaded two young boys to watch them and as Bella approached she was pleased to see one boy offering them some water from a bucket. Placing the promised money in each of their outstretched hands she unlocked the rear door then climbed up onto the bench seat to wait.

At a run, Hannibal Heyes circled around the cottonwoods so that he could approach Flanagan's wagon from the rear. Crouching behind a bush Han nervously chewed his bottom lip, cursing under his breath when he couldn't hear anything but the chirping of crickets and the thudding of his own heart. He needed to know how many people they were going to have to deal with and all he could see were shadows thrown through the trees by a lighted lantern.

Edging forward a little more he heard someone approaching, whistling merrily.

A voice asked, "Who's there?"

The whistling continued, despite the sound of the cocking of a rifle. Picking up a large rock Han crept closer.

The whistling stopped. "Good evening, my good man!"

"That's far enough. Just turn around and head back into town."

"But, it's a lovely evening for a stroll."

"Yeah well, go stroll someplace else. Now git."

"Maybe you'd like some company, out here _all on your own._ "

"Now listen—" The man's words were cut off as Han's rock made heavy contact with the back of his head.

"Good work, m' boy!"

Having checked that the man was still alive Josiah Tweedie pulled him to one side to tie and gag him while Han got to work on the large padlock. Seconds later it sprang open and plucking the lantern from its hook, he pulled open the door. Blue eyes squinted at him from a dark corner.

"Jed!" As quick as a whip snake Han was at his cousin's side. "Jeez, Jed, you're a mess," he gasped, looking in dismay at the bruised face.

With an uncertain smile Jed mumbled, "Fightin', again."

"I know. C'mon, let's get you outta here."

"Can't." Jed pointed at the restraint on his leg.

Han placed the lantern on the floor and examined the heavy piece of metal. He had never attempted a lock like that before.

Tweedie appeared at the door. "What's keeping you?"

Moving to one side Han indicated the problem eliciting a groan from JT. "I'll look in that fella's pockets. He may have the key." A minute later he reappeared. "Nothing. Can you get it off?"

With a shrug Han pushed his hat to the back of his head and pulled a selection of picks from his coat pocket. Having chosen one he carefully inserted it into the opening and prayed that the small piece of metal wouldn't break and jam the lock. When he felt nothing move Han tried a different pick.

He was on his third when he heard a hissed, "Someone's coming."

The sound of footsteps and the sloshing of water got louder then a young voice enquired, "Biff? You awake? Y' know how Mister Flanagan feels about ya sleepin'. He'll...mmphmmph." The muffled cry accompanied the clatter of a bucket hitting the ground and JT once again appeared at the door, one hand across a boy's mouth, the other twisting his right arm painfully behind his back.

"No! He's my friend, please don't hurt him." Jed struggled to sit up. "Listen Billy, my cousin Han is here," he called. "He's gonna help us."

" _Us?!_ " Han's concentration momentarily strayed.

"Yeah. I promised Billy that when I left he could come with me. He gets beaten up real bad, Han. You've got no idea what Mister Flanagan can do."

"I got some idea, Jed, just by looking at you. I saw that farm boy hit you a couple of times but he sure didn't do _that_ to your face."

"Or this." Jed grimaced as he raised his shirt.

At the sight of his cousin's numerous bruises Han did his best to swallow his mounting anger, knowing that he had to control it in order to focus on the lock.

Since Jed had called out to him Billy had ceased struggling and JT risked releasing him. He was glad he did. "Ya gotta hurry. I think Mister Flanagan is gonna come check on ya," urged Billy.

Han was just about to let loose an oath at this ill-timed piece of news when there was a loud click and the leg iron opened. Pulling Jed's foot free he asked, "Where are your boots?"

Jed shrugged then wished he hadn't as a stab of pain flashed across his chest.

"Billy, that fella out there, take his boots off and pass 'em up here, will you." Han turned back to his cousin. "Y' know, I hope Flanagan _does_ show up. I'd sure like to get even with him for what he's done to you."

Pausing from pulling on Biff's boots Jed said absently, "I don't reckon your fist would hurt him but, I s'pose you could take his money."

"Money? How?"

"He's got it all in that box."

Following the direction of Jed's pointing finger Han glanced at the strongbox and grinned. Padlocks being his strength, it took no time at all before they were staring down at Fox Flanagan's money.

"You'd better be done in there because I think we're about to have company," warned JT.

Han hastily stuffed several bundles of dollar bills into his pockets. "Just a few more seconds."

"Hannibal, I think..."


	14. Chapter 14

"What the hell is going on here?" Fox Flanagan emerged through the trees, a revolver in his hand. He nudged the unconscious man with his toe. "Biff?"

Raising his hands in the air the flimflam man's eyes searched the ground trying to locate Biff's rifle which had been there only a moment ago. It was nowhere in sight.

Han had been quick to notice that this man's voice had made Jed jump. "That him?" he murmured, his eyes growing dark. Jed nodded.

"You there...in the wagon...come on out and keep your hands where I can see them," ordered Fox.

His hands held aloft and ensuring his cousin was safely behind him Han slowly stepped down from the wagon.

"So, you trying to rob me?"

"That's the plan," Han replied, levelly.

"Well now, it don't look like you're gonna be taking anything, does it?" Noticing Jed, Fox added. "Come on out, Kid. It don't seem right you cowering back there."

"I ain't cowerin'!" Jed protested, moving out from behind Han. "I'm leavin'."

"No you ain't," Fox said with a smirk. "Get back in that wagon and be thankful I ain't planning on shooting you right now. You've gotta know a bullet would hurt a whole lot more than a few bruises, right?"

"A _few_ bruises!" exclaimed Han, angrily. "He's covered in them!"

"Lessons had to be learned. Nobody loses me money and gets away with it. Now, you two, lie down on your belly, right there." He indicated the spot with his gun.

Han and JT looked at one another a second too long prompting Flanagan to let loose a shot which almost skimmed Han's left shoulder before embedding itself in the wooden door behind him.

"Do it!"

Having just experienced the sensation of a bullet whizzing past his ear for the first time, Han struggled to keep the alarmed expression from his face as he glanced back at Jed and murmured, "It's okay. You'll be fine. Just do as he says."

Unable to find his voice and with his feet rooted to the spot Jed watched in horror as his cousin and JT slowly complied.

Flanagan then reached down and with the flourish of a man very much in control placed the barrel of his gun against Han's head. "Now you're gonna see how easy you had it yesterday, Kid. _This_ is what happens when people cross me."

In anticipation of the bullet Han tensed squeezing his eyes shut. Suddenly there was a thud and a groan then something heavy landed on the ground causing a fine spray of grit to hit the side of his face.

"Billy!"

Hearing Jed shout Han opened one eye to see Fox Flanagan sprawled out beside him with blood running from a large gash in the back of his head. Billy stood alongside him holding the missing rifle by the barrel.

Quickly recovering their equilibrium Han and JT jumped to their feet.

"You buffaloed him real good!" crowed Jed, delighting in his oppressor's injury before his eyes lit on the object still grasped in the man's hand. Han followed his gaze and both he and Jed made a lunge toward it. Jed was faster, the pain in his ribs negated by the adrenaline flooding his bloodstream.

"Don't go doing anything stupid." Han looked warily at Flanagan's gun now set comfortably in his cousin's hand. "C'mon, Jed, he ain't worth hanging for."

Aiming at the prone form Jed tried to slow his own breathing which he knew was way too fast and which, along with the adrenaline, was making his hand shake a little.

No. He didn't want to do it here — not like this.

If he was going to have the satisfaction of putting a bullet in Fox Flanagan he wanted to be able to call him out, look him in the eye and stare him down, just like Danny had told him a real gunman would do. Much to Han's relief he uncocked the revolver and pushed it through his belt.

"Let's go," urged JT. "We're running out of time and you'll be in big trouble if you miss that train."

The run back to the waiting horses was difficult for Jed. His ribs hurt whenever he took a deep breath and by the time he was helped up into the medicine wagon he just lay on the bare boards, gasping and exhausted.

Bella was relieved to see Han and her father back safe and sound especially as she was sure she had heard a gunshot, and while everyone got their breath back she wasted no time in getting the horses moving toward the main street.

His chest heaving with the unaccustomed exertion JT checked his pocket watch — it showed ten-thirty. He shook his head, they had to move fast. Taking the reins from Bella he slapped them hard on the greys' backs.

Sheriff Collier stepped out of his office just as the wagon thundered by but he didn't give it a second glance. He was more than pleased to see the back of the carnival folk for this year and, as far as he was concerned, the faster they left town the better.

Passing both the station and the stockyard JT took the road which ran parallel with the railroad track and urged the horses on faster still. Two miles outside of town, silhouetted against the moonlit sky, the large shape of a water tower loomed into view and this was where JT pulled the sweating animals to a halt.

A locomotive whistle sounded in the distance.

Gathering everyone at the rear of the wagon JT pointed to a cluster of bushes at the side of the track. "Those and the darkness should be enough to conceal the three of you." He turned to Han. "Now remember, select a boxcar where the door is open a little. Watch for the brakeman. Once he's back on board and the water chute goes up the train will start to move. It won't go real fast so you should have time to run and get yourselves up into the car without too much trouble. Oh, and don't forget to close the door once you're in."

Han shook the older man's hand vigorously, then on impulse, hugged him warmly. "Thanks for everything, JT."

"Don't mention it. It's been a pleasure to get know you, Hannibal. Now, you've got Silky's address, haven't you?"

"Yep, it's right here." Han patted one of his bulging coat pockets then, without hesitation, he reached inside and pulled out a large bundle of dollar bills. "Here, take this. I don't rightly know how much is there but... call it my contribution to the spring take," he said with a grin.

"Why, thank you kindly young man." Taking the money Josiah Tweedie took off his top hat and gave Han a theatrical bow.

Then, while her father returned to the driver's seat, an unusually shy Bella stepped forward holding two full water canteens. Han pulled her to him and held her tight, burying his face in her dark curls before kissing her until the nearing of the locomotive's whistle forced them to part.

"Time to go, children," called JT. "We all need to be out of sight before the train comes."

Reluctantly Bella took her seat on the bench beside her father and the wagon sped off back down the track. The three boys stood and waved for as long as they dared before retreating to the cover of the bushes.

A few tense minutes passed before the locomotive finally appeared and slowed to a stop by the water station. Han did as JT had suggested and chose one of the seven boxcars, the third from the back. He silently pointed it out to the other two. Exactly three minutes from the time they had dropped the spout the engine was again building up steam and the wheels began to turn. With the brakeman nowhere in sight they ran as fast as they could toward the rolling train.

Han grabbed the rail which also served as the door handle to their chosen car and pulled it open. He quickly gave Billy a leg up and together they helped Jed through the open door. As the train was now picking up speed Han knew he had to get himself on board right away or be left behind and so, clinging desperately to the rail he swung his right leg up, his foot barely finding purchase on the slatted wooden floorboards. Just as his strength was starting to fail he felt two pairs of hands grab at his clothes and the next thing he knew he lay panting on the boxcar floor.

ooooo-OOO-ooooo

Jed rubbed the barrel of the Remington Army Conversion revolver with his shirt sleeve and, having once more checked that only four of the five .46 caliber chambers were loaded, he tucked it safely into his belt.

"How many times you gonna check that gun, Kid?" asked Billy over the clatter of the wheels on the rails.

"His name's Jed," corrected Han with a hard look. Billy regarded him nervously.

"It's okay, Billy. Han won't hurt you." Jed threw an icy glare at his cousin. "It don't bother me, Han. I've gotten used to being called Kid. It could be a gunman's name, dontcha think?"

"Pffft, just 'cause you've got yourself a gun," said Han with a roll of his eyes. "Is that what you want to be now? A gunman?"

Frowning, Jed considered this. "I wanna be _somebody_. Somebody that don't get messed with, I guess. So yeah, a gunman called Kid Curry sounds mighty fine to me."

Han dumped the contents of his deep coat pockets onto a pile of straw. "You want me to call you Kid now, too?"

"Sure, why not."

The damage to his ribs having been further aggravated by the scramble into the boxcar Jed grimaced as he carefully leant back onto a larger pile of, not altogether clean, straw and breathed through the pain. "So, are we gonna ride this freight as far as it goes or jump off before it gets to the first station and head back home?"

Reluctantly, Han dragged his attention away from the stack of dollar bills he was counting, "...four hundred and fifteen... Home?"

"Yeah, Serenity."

"No, we'd best head for Denver. It wouldn't be real smart to visit a sheriff with our pockets stuffed full of stolen money, now would it?"

"We could say we earned it."

"Oh, sure! Erle's gonna believe that in a hurry!" Han smiled sadly. "Anyway, Je— uh...Kid, I don't think we'd be very welcome in that town. We let too many people down."

Jed gave this some more thought. "How 'bout we send a telegraph. Miz Dunbar's gotta be worried."

"Probably, but she's gotta be real mad too. We promised we wouldn't just up and leave, remember?"

Blue eyes looked forlornly at Han. "But the leavin' bit wasn't my fault and you left a note telling them why you was going. They won't hold that against us will they?"

"I _did_ take off in the middle of the night, Kid."

"But only 'cause you figured they'd try and talk you outta coming to look for me."

Hannibal sighed. "Okay, okay. If it'll make you happy when we get to Denver we'll write a letter and send it in the mail; that way we can say more than in a telegraph. We'll tell them we're fine, what we've been doing and where we are." He indicated the paper money strewn over the straw in front of him then added with a cheeky grin, "We'll leave out the parts the sheriff don't need to know about, of course."

"Who'da thought we'd ever be going all the way to Colorado — to the mountains!" Jed tried to grin but his jaw still hurt. "You never know, Han, maybe one day we'll be famous and they'll be writin' all about us in one of those fancy newspapers."

Han shook his head at his cousin's optimism. "Let's just wait and see what kind of work this Mister O'Sullivan has for us before we get too excited, huh?

ooooo-OOO-ooooo

One month later...

"Stand and _de_ liver!"

At the sight of five heavy-set men on horseback all holding large shotguns aimed in his direction, the driver of the stagecoach pulled the horses to a halt and raised his hands high in the air.

"Y'all do as yer told and nobody gets hurt," said the outlaw gang's leader through the bandana covering his face. As he spoke, two similarly disguised men leaped from their horses and poked their shotguns through the coach windows.

"We don't carry no bullion," stated the driver.

"No, but yer carry mail. Mailed money is good enough fer us." The leader gestured to the two remaining gang members. "Sid, get those mailbags. Willie, go see what the folks inside have to offer, will ya."

Once the passengers had been searched and divested of anything of value the gang slung the mailbags securely over their saddles and made a speedy getaway across country.

Not wishing to carry the heavy bags for long they soon stopped and under cover of a thicket of trees spread the contents out on the ground. Each man searched for official-looking letters, tearing them open and pocketing any bonds, certificates or cash. Also aware that money could occasionally be found in private mail they started to open that too. Eventually tiring of coming up empty they tossed the remainder aside and, satisfied with their haul, mounted up and rode off leaving the discarded contents of the mailbags trampled among the tree roots.

Soon the pieces of torn paper and envelopes were picked up by a gathering breeze and borne along for a while before landing in a nearby creek, the inky scrawl on one particular envelope addressed to Sheriff E. Dunbar and Mrs Dunbar, Serenity, Kansas, fading away in the fast-flowing water.

ooooo-OOO-ooooo

12 years later...

A slightly trembling hand put down the coffee cup as the grey-haired man leaned forward to pick up the newly-delivered, week-old copy of the Dodge City Times. Even after all these years Serenity still didn't have its own newspaper so he had to make do with those that came via the mail.

Unfolding the journal Erle Dunbar stared at the front page.

 _HANNIBAL HEYES AND KID CURRY IN ANOTHER BOLD TRAIN ROBBERY_

 _The regular Denver and Rio Grande Railroad service to Denver was robbed by the Devil's Hole Gang yesterday five miles outside Freshwater, Colorado. The safe was opened and looted of its contents by the notorious Gang's leader Hannibal Heyes while the shootist, Kid Curry held the engineer and fireman at gunpoint. No injuries were reported among the passengers. The amount of the booty is declared to be $25,000._

He read the article through once more then put the paper down with a sigh. As much as he missed her, wished with all his heart that the diphtheria hadn't taken her, there were times when he was grateful Maggie wasn't here to see this; she would have been so distressed at the way those two boys had turned out.

Erle grabbed his walking cane and struggled to his feet. The colder mornings always made the shattered bone in his right leg ache. _Dang bank robbers_ he thought, _never mind locking them up in the penitentiary, they should all be hanged._ Slowly limping across the room he reflected on the fact that Heyes and Curry, if the reports he had read were true, had also robbed a bank or two and he shook his head at the irony.

Steadying himself against the oak dresser Erle reached up to the top shelf and took down a large, slightly rusty cigarette tin. He opened the lid and gazed down at the keepsakes inside before searching through the contents until he found what he was looking for. Erle frowned as he gently unfolded a piece of paper and smoothed it flat. Maggie had read it so many times that the note was now a little fragile along the creases and ragged around the edges. His eyes lingered on the untidy pencilled scrawl which covered the page.

 _Dear Maggie_

 _I have gone to find Jed. I know he didn't run away. He wouldn't do that so I need to know what happened to him. I can't say when we will be back. Tell Sheriff Dunbar we didn't like it in jail so we promise to stay on the right side of the law from now on. Thank you for all you did for us. It was real nice being part of a family again._

 _Sorry._

 _Hannibal Heyes_

Erle was in the process of limping across to the fireplace when Sheriff Danny Whitman let himself in through the back door.

"Mornin'," he said cheerily before a look of concern crossed his face. "You okay, Erle?" The man was glaring at a crumpled piece of paper in his fist.

Suddenly registering Danny's presence Erle took his eyes away from his hand and looked up.

"Oh, mornin', Danny."

"What ya got there?"

"It's a note Maggie kept. It's from Han."

"Han?"

"Yeah, Hannibal Heyes. Maggie kept the note he left on his bed the night he took off. It took her a long time to get over those two disappearing. I don't reckon I'll ever forgive them for that." Sadly, he held out the crumpled piece of paper. "Here, read it."

Danny looked at the note then asked. "You seen the Dodge City paper?"

"Yeah, I saw it," growled Erle. He took the note from Danny and screwed it up again. "Stay on the right side of the law? Pfftt. They robbed another train! So much for their promises."

"Jeez, Erle, I don't remember keepin' many promises back when I was a kid and I'm willin' to bet you didn't neither. Maybe they just fell in with a bunch of no-goods and couldn't get back on track. It happens."

Erle shook his head and drew his arm back.

"What ya doin'?" Danny asked. "You ain't gonna burn that are ya?"

"Ain't no sense in keeping a passel of lies."

"Would Maggie still wanna keep it if she was here?" Danny didn't want his friend to do something he might regret.

"Maybe." Erle leaned heavily on his cane. "Probably."

Sheriff Whitman held out his hand. "Here, let me put it back in Maggie's box."

Taking the note from Erle, Danny smoothed it out and placed it in the tin which he then returned to the top shelf of the dresser. Turning back to Erle he said, "I know they've done a lot of robbin' but I don't reckon those two are all bad."

"Humph! Are you saying you don't feel bad for teaching Kid Curry to shoot a six-gun?"

"I didn't have to teach him much, Erle. Much as I hate to say it, that boy was a born shootist." Danny grinned at his old boss. "Some folks say he's the fastest gun the West has ever seen. They also say he's never killed no one, neither of them have. Those Devil's Hole boys ain't vicious — they don't threaten or rob the railroad passengers like some gangs do."

Helping himself to a cup of coffee Danny added thoughtfully, "Y' know, if those two don't get themselves caught — or killed — I think there's enough good in both of them to someday turn their lives around and go straight."

"Yeah, and I'll be dancin' a jig at Ma Tindall's next barn dance," drawled Erle, sarcastically.

Danny's laughter filled the usually silent kitchen. "Stranger things have happened!"

AUTHOR'S NOTE:

**The term boxing ring goes back to the time when boxing was solely bare-knuckle fights. In those days a circle was drawn in the dirt and prize fighters were ringed by the fans. The first square ring was in use by 1838. It was 24 feet (7.3 m) square and bound by two ropes. The boxing ring is also referred to as the "square circle."


End file.
